


Feeling Pretty Is No Sin

by Asami_T



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Crossdressing, Domestic Fluff, Dresses, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gender Identity, Gender Roles, Genderfluid Character, Lingerie, Planet Naboo (Star Wars), Self-Indulgent, Tatooine Slave Culture (Star Wars), Theed (Star Wars), Therapy, Varykino (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 05:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asami_T/pseuds/Asami_T
Summary: Padmé Amidala makes an interesting discovery when she drops in on her husband, Anakin Skywalker during his involuntary leave of absence at Varykino.
Relationships: Barriss Offee/Ahsoka Tano, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	1. Feeling Pretty Is No Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Before we begin-- some notes:
> 
> Darth Sidious and Darth Tyrannus both died long before their canonical death dates. In this case, the story largely takes place in and around 20 BBY, with Anakin having killed Sidious and Tyrannus about six-or-so months prior to the text. Because of this, Ahsoka is still Anakin's Padawan, Bariss Offee never bombed the Jedi Temple, and some troopers like Fives and Tup survived the war without being killed. This is a lot of backstory for what is essentially a genderqueer fluff piece, but you know. Consistency.
> 
> Tatooine Slave Culture, and any references to it (tzai, Ekkreth, et al.) are the creation of fialleril, I'm merely an author who copped it for her own selfish gains.

The sight of Varykino in the distance made Padmé sigh in relief. The last few months had been something close to a nightmare for her and her ‘secret’ husband. Anakin had been paraded through the media after having been instrumental in the death of Count Dooku, leader of the CIS—and his Sith master, whom had turned out to be the Supreme Chancellor himself.

It was probably the fact that Anakin had killed two Sith Lords that kept him in the Order at all.

Almost immediately after the fact, the press had started digging for information about Naboo and their leaders. Because of Padmé held the position that Chancellor Palpatine had so many years ago, and had been so instrumental to his rise to power with her vote of no confidence against Chancellor Valorum during the Occupation of Naboo-- the relentless pursuit of information had dragged them her way, looking for any connections between the woman who had once begged the Senate for an intervention against the Trade Federation and the man who had masterminded the whole thing to begin with.

They quickly dug up the fact that there was a simple marriage certificate filed with the Nubéian central government indicating the union of Queen-Emeritus Amidala and Jedi _Padawan_ Anakin Skywalker being sanctified by a priest shortly after the Battle of Geonosis. From there—it simply became a massive deluge, and not a good one for the Jedi Order. Anakin had held a marriage for two years in secrecy while spending every day fighting for the good of the Galactic Republic while training a Padawan of his own—Ahsoka Tano. It was a heavy blow to the Jedi’s dogmatic expectations of “no attachments”, and one that Padmé personally felt was well-earned and well-deserved.

The Jedi could ill afford to expel him, but it was still a contentious issue on Coruscant. So much so that with peace on hand, Anakin was given an extended leave-of-absence so that the High Council could ruminate on what to do with him after the fact. Padmé wasn’t privy to all of their discussions, but from what Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had told him, the group that was advocating for doctrinal reform was winning the debate after a surprising amount of support from Mace Windu and Yoda.

But as it was—that was six months ago, and they were still locked in contentious debate.

Since Anakin had gone on leave, Padmé had hardly seen her husband except in brief holocalls they managed to get through to each other in their downtime. Anakin was trying to find ways to make himself useful, tending to the grounds at Varykino, and infrequently travelling into Theed—though each time he made the entrance into Theed, he drew crowds.

While not legally a Prince, per se, due to the elective nature of the Naboo monarchy, the fact that little nine-year-old Anakin had a statue in Theed’s central square would always explain the reason _why_ he always drew such attentions. Like her, he would always be _royalty_ , even if it was entirely in a vague, esoteric sense.

“Senator? We’ve arrived,” A voice interrupted her thoughts, shaking her from her stupor.

“Thank you, Fives,” Padmé said, noticing they’d landed at the small ship landing pad on the far-side of the property—it had been heavily upgraded after Sidious had organized attempts on her life during the prelude to the war. She gently reached over and squeezed the clone’s bicep and shooting him a soft smile.

Fives had been one of the decommissioned ARC troopers that had been hired on commission to serve as her personal bodyguard. Similarly, she had been more than pleased at how many of the Clones had begun to find their own way in the galaxy now that peace had been declared. Many of them would remain with the GAR, but more still would be decommissioned and given settlements by the new government. Chancellor Organa was very firm on that, no doubt from the sheer number of messages he’d been sent by Anakin.

Padmé chuckled at the thought of how many times her husband had sent strongly worded letters to the Chancellor’s office over the slow procedures of getting the clones their dues. It was a sentiment echoed by many of the Jedi who served in the field, particularly after the revelation of the control chips had come to light.

Varykino looked as beautiful as ever as Padmé walked down the stone steps towards the back of the house itself. Stepping through the door and undoing her headscarf, she could hear faint strands of music coming from the second floor—she recognized it as Coruscanti opera, more specifically one of the more sedated pieces, a relaxing melody.

 _Coruscanti opera_ was one of those things that Anakin rarely spoke about. She had been surprised that the rough little Huttese-speaking boy from Tatooine had grown up to have such… _cultured tastes_. Even she and Obi-Wan often thought it to be a bit… _high-brow_ , but she supposed the amount of time Anakin spent at operatic performances with the Chancellor was to influence his tastes just a bit, even if they could serve as bitter reminders of the betrayal of trust.

Padmé made her way upstairs to search for her wayward husband, following the sound of the music. As she made her way through the estate, the music grew closer, and she soon realized Anakin was _most likely_ on the terrace. As she turned the corner, she stopped dead in sheer confusion.

It was Anakin, alright. The scar he’d gotten on his face from the time he’d accidentally slipped and fell in the bathtub of her Senate quarters was still there, proudly adorned on his face like a war wound (which is honestly what most people presumed it to be from), but the rest of him piqued her interest.

The first thing she noticed was the fact that his hair was tied up in a lazy bun—strands of it rebelling from the grip of the elastic band that held it in place. His face… he’d clearly been rifling through her cosmetics with the fact he had crimson-stained lips and darkened eyelids. He was wearing a rather nice looking robe—one Padmé had seen on more than one occasion hanging in the window of a boutique in Theed during her brief forays back to her home planet on Senate business.

She decided then and there that black and red did suit Anakin quite well, in certain scenarios. Beneath the long flowing women’s robe was a pair of…

Padmé’s eyebrow rose as she took in the sight of her husband. He certainly looked comfortable, a soft smile playing on his lips as he was being serenaded into a light doze by the music. She also briefly noticed that he’d… painted his fingers and toes too.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you’d seen my husband,” Padmé said jokingly as she approached where Anakin lay.

With a start, Anakin jumped to his feet, only to be tangled up in his robe and falling to the ground with a shriek.

“How in the galaxy did you kill two Sith Lords if you startle that easily?” Padmé said, jokingly.

“Well hello to you too, angel,” Anakin said painfully as he scraped himself up off the floor. With a huff, he drew his robe closed and tied it off, obscuring Padmé’s _very nice view_ , earning a slight pout from the Senator. “W-what are you doing here, anyway?”

Padmé smiled and shot her eyebrows up again. “The negotiations between the Separatists and Republic have largely concluded. I have a few weeks before I’ll have to go back to Coruscant, so I figured I would spend them with you. I know the last time we talked you’d been stir-crazy.”

“Well, if the Council would just make up their minds on if they’re going to kick me out or not,” Anakin said, frowning. “I can’t even contact Ahsoka or Obi-Wan about it! Apparently the entire Order has me on a communications embargo or something. Nobody’ll talk to me!”

“Ani, love, they’d take years just to decide what colour the skies are,” Padmé said with a snort. “Have you been stressing about it that much?”

“I’ve been finding ways to keep myself occupied,” Anakin said. “Small touches here or there, doing upgrades to Artoo or Threepio—I tried to take some hobby classes in Theed but the crowds swarming me were… a little much,”

“Hobby classes?”

“Small things—mostly art,” Anakin said with a grin.

“It’s nice to have time to do things that aren’t war, isn’t it?” Padmé said softly.

“I still frequently practice with my lightsaber, but I’ve been taking a break from it for a while, just like you suggested,” Anakin said with a sigh of his own.

“So, you’ve been learning art?”

Anakin nodded. “There’s a teacher in Theed that was more than happy to come visit and teach me here. Apparently he’s from one of the planets we helped liberate during the war, and in his own words—he would love nothing more than to help the Hero with No Fear learn the wonders of art therapy.”

Padmé snorted.

“Oh, he’s also teaching me calligraphy and his wife is teaching me Nubéian flower arranging. I didn’t know you could communicate so much with flowers.”

Padmé blinked. “I actually forgot about that. That was one of the things I had to learn as queen,” she said with a small grin. “It’s not very common outside of certain traditional families. I doubt Sidious ever learned it.”

Anakin’s face darkened. “Don’t talk about him—he is the last thing I want to kriffing think about.”

“Sorry, Ani,” Padmé said apologetically. “Calligraphy, though?”

Anakin nodded and grinned widely. “Remind me later and I’ll show you some of the stuff I’ve been making. It’s nice to have time to just… _do things like that_ , you know?”

Padmé nodded. She bit her lip, wondering how to approach the bantha in the room.

“Of course—you do no longer have to throw yourself into harm’s way constantly,” She agreed with a nod, before grinning. “Anakin, darling… what’s with…” She said, trailing off and gesturing at Anakin’s current appearance.

Anakin blushed and turned away from her. “Well, the robe was hanging in the window of this boutique I passed by in Theed and I thought it looked really nice. I’ve never owned anything silk before, not even as a Jedi. I didn’t think about it much at first, you know, I didn’t want to get it covered in grease or dirt or whatever I was doing, so I mostly left in the box—but a few days ago, I was getting ready to clean up after working on Artoo…”

Anakin shrugged. “It just sort of rolled from there. You know I’ve never been much for the finer things. You know, as a kid, I could never just soak in a bath or anything. It was a really pleasant experience.”

“Ah, now that’s something I haven’t been able to do in months—take a relaxing bath. With the number of things I’ve had to run and go do since this mess blew up on everything, I’ve mostly been relying on quick showers or the sonic when I’m travelling between planets,” Padmé said with a slightly crooked grin. “I think you owe me one of those.”

“Anything for you, Angel,” Anakin said, gently wrapping her up in his embrace.

“You did a good job with your makeup,” Padmé said, grinning some, looking critically at her husband’s face. “The Jedi never really… let you do the whole expressing yourself thing, did they?”

“Not that often—mostly on infiltration missions, but I rarely got put on those,” Anakin said with a snort. “Can’t trust Skywalker to not blow a mission, so let’s send Master Secura to get drugged without any help to get her out of a bad situation, or Obi-Wan to impersonate Rako Hardeen so that his former Padawan could almost kill him in a fit of rage.”

“You’re clearly talented at it, maybe you should’ve been disguised as one of my assistants when you were doing protection detail back then,” Padmé joked. “You would’ve looked so cute in a traditional gown.”

“Oh, Sith hells, no,” Anakin said. “No offense, but all those outfits were terrible.”

“My, my, does the little boy from Tatooine have some opinions on fashion?” Padmé asked, grinning ear-to-ear.

Anakin blushed harder. “It’s not _that_ , I just… don’t like the way certain things feel and look. You’ve seen my usual outfit when I’m on Jedi business. I haven’t worn the traditional robes since I was a Padawan, I usually wear _black_. That’s not typical!” He said defensively.

“I’m only giving you a hard time, Ani, it’s okay,” Padmé said with a smile. “But you do look quite radiant.”

Anakin brightened. “I _feel_ good. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m still a guy. That won’t change, but you know…?”

“That’s perfectly fine, Ani,” Padmé said reassuringly. “Though you might have to put up with some teasing. Particularly from Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.”

“Whatever. It’s not like they don’t have quirks either,” Anakin said with a snort. “They can kriff off.”

“So, is this the only pretty thing you’ve got?” Padmé asked in a low voice.

Anakin looked away and rubbed the back of his head. “Y-yeah, I haven’t really gotten up the courage to go looking for more things, actually.”

Padmé looked at her husband critically. “Unfortunately, you’re a little too tall to fit into anything of mine,” she said apologetically. “But I think I know just the ticket. You go back to your opera, I’ll be back, Ani. But first, before I go, a kiss.”

Anakin smiled and leaned in and kissed Padmé on the lips, earning a grin from the woman in question.

“I missed you,” Padmé said. “Now, don’t go anywhere!”

“I have nowhere to go, angel,” Anakin said with a roll of his eyes before he returned to the terrace chair. The last sight Padmé had of her husband as she ran inside was the sight of him untying his robe again and laying his head back. A million things were flying through her head as she made her way to the holo. She was rather excited, if she had to be honest.

She’d never known Anakin to wear anything other than the same thing he wore into battle. He’d suffered so much as a child that he’d never properly grown into his own personality other than being an angry ball of emotional trauma and oft-misery.

But now he was branching out, taking up _art_ and being his own person, free of the onus of being an ex-slave _and_ one of the premier Jedi Knights. The last six months had done wonders for him, and she was so looking forward to seeing what he was blossoming into. She would do anything to encourage him to keep exploring, and she hadn’t had a dress-up doll in a _very long time…_

Oh, yes. This would do. This would do quite well.

…

It took a few more minutes for Anakin’s heart rate to finally drop below ‘danger zone’. Being caught out the way he was had nearly given him a heart attack. Though, he wasn’t sure why he was ever worried about Padmé’s reactions. She loved him despite all his flaws and rough spots. Why would she care if he sometimes liked to _feel pretty_?

Feeling pretty was no sin—not even the Jedi, who seemed to constantly have a stick wedged up their ass, seemed to care much about _specific identity_. Of course, they were opposed to things like make-up and opulent clothing. Everyone in the Order tended to wear the same set of robes, with some Jedi out in the field wearing uniforms of their choosing.

Anakin typically wore his black tunic, black pants, black gloves, and his flowing cape when he was in the field of battle. He had been called on more than one occasion _over-dramatic_. Mostly by an exasperated Mace Windu, chortling Obi-Wan, or snickering Ahsoka—but Aayla Secura ran around in an outfit that showed off more of her body than anyone else in the Jedi Order.

Ahsoka too—during her early days as his padawan, she ran around in a _tube top_ of all things. It had taken Anakin months to finally convince her to wear something _a little more concealing._ He didn’t try to be that prude old man, but how do you explain to a fourteen-year-old child that wearing very little clothing in a combat situation was a good way to get killed… _or worse_.

He grit his teeth some and let the surge of emotion inside him pass as best as he could. Taking a deep breath, he tried to refocus. Ahsoka was okay—she was a very capable young Jedi in her own right, and she’d _be okay_ now that peace was here. They’d been fighting for so long, maybe now there was something else the Jedi could be doing other than commanding legions of troops.

If they didn’t expel him, Anakin considered—maybe he’d volunteer for the crèches or something. A lot of those kids really needed support systems to keep them from struggling as much as he did. It was something to think about—but he doubted they’d ever let him do that. He was their finely-trained weapon. Maybe if he got expelled, he’d go into engineering as a career. He had a lot of ideas for improving things like his mechanical arm. With a little backing, maybe…

Kriff. Now was not the time to be introspective about life. He was trying to _relax_. Enjoy things.

Reaching over and taking up the drink he’d set on the small table next to him, he took a sip and sighed to himself. Serenity was never easy for him, but the smell of the ocean, a softer, more gentle sun, and music he’d come to love despite their… complicated connotations, it was all he could do let go of his worries.

…

Padmé had a _pretty decent_ idea of her husband’s dimensions. Jedi weren’t often renowned for their physiques—despite their massive athleticism and swordsmanship, many of them were lithe and scrawny looking. She’d long attributed it to something having to do with the fact the Force was taking care of _most_ of their grand feats of aerobics.

Though with a little help with calculations from measuring some of the clothes he had on-hand, plus some images of him she had laying around in the holo, she managed to get a pretty decent idea of what she needed to specify.

She sent out a number of orders to shops across Naboo, mostly hitting higher-end boutiques and shops in Theed. The total cost was a genuine _drop_ in the bucket compared to the money she’d accumulated over the years from her household stipend, her civil salary, and the fact she was the heiress of a noble family. Anakin, as a Jedi and ex-slave, had very little in the way of _actual possessions_ , save for some war trophies and baubles he’d picked up over the years. She grinned and pressed her hands together. She just knew he’d appreciate all that she’d picked out—and if there was something he hated, well, she could always send it back.

That squared away, she quickly changed into a light sundress, grabbed a hat, and made her way to the terrace. Pulling one of the other reclining chairs out, she set up next to Anakin, gently grasping his hand in her own and squeezing it.

“You’re back,” Anakin said lazily, not opening his eyes.

“I promised I would be,” Padmé said lightly, with a smile. “I just had something I needed to go do first.”

“What?” Anakin asked.

“Ah, that would be telling. It’s a surprise, Ani!”

“Alright, angel,” Anakin said, giving a smirk.

The couple enjoyed themselves for a while, bathing in the sun, frequently reapplying lotion to where they needed to so they wouldn’t burn. After a few hours, Anakin spoke up.

“I promised I’d show you some of the things I’ve been doing while you were away,” Anakin said, grinning. “You still want to see them?”

“Of course,” Padmé said brightly. “I would love to.”

…

“Well, here we are,” Anakin said, opening the door to one of the rooms that had been emptied out just after she’d gotten her appointment to the Senate. Inside the room were a number of things—an easel, art supplies, a table with calligraphy ink and brushes, and a bunch of flower trimmings and instruments strewn about. It struck Padmé that that she frequently saw when Anakin was fixing speeders or droids was more than just “a bunch of mechanical junk”, it was an expression of creativity.

Anakin’s paintings were amateurish, sure, but she was proud to see him trying something new like this. They ranged from simple things like fruit and furniture, up to things from his memories. One such painting that struck her was a crude recreation of their wedding. Two silhouetted figures standing on the terrace as the sun set behind them, another two figures standing aside—clearly droids. She smiled some before glancing back at Anakin.

“You painted our wedding,” she said softly.

Anakin blushed some and turned away out of embarrassment. “Well, I missed you, and I kept thinking about how beautiful you were that day…”

“Ani, you’re so sweet,” Padmé said softly, gently reaching up and stroking her husband’s cheek. “I promise, we’re going to spend more time together now that the war is over.”

“I know, angel. It’s just a lot of change very fast,” he said, smiling. “We don’t have to hide anymore. I’m so thankful for that,”

“I’m happy too—I don’t know how much longer I could’ve put up with that,” Padmé said wryly. “At some point I would’ve just said kriff it, but I’m glad it did when it did.”

After going through all his art, Anakin showed her some of the calligraphy and flower arranging he’d been doing. Padmé was struck by the pride and happiness in his voice as he went through the things he and his tutor had been going through, and it warmed a place in her heart. He was _healing_ , and it was so good.

After they’d chatted for a while about the things he was learning and doing, Padmé gently grasped his hand and tugged him along.

“You promised me a relaxing bath, I think it’s time you paid your dues, Knight Skywalker.”

“Of course, _Senator,_ ” Anakin said with a snicker.

“You can rub my feet first, then I’ll rub yours,” she said simply as she pushed him into the bathroom ahead of her. Before she could close the door, he lazily waved his hand, and the door closed behind them.

…

The couple days that followed were a lesson in ”how to have a lie-in”. They very infrequently left their bed except to eat and bask in the sun. Anakin still paraded around in the silk robe, but he had changed back into his normal underwear (Padmé had to admit, she was… _slightly disappointed_ ) and had done away with the paint on his nails.

Not that she cared which way he presented himself—she was just happy to have him around, honestly.

She mused at the idea that they’d had more sex in the last two days than they’d had in the entire length of their relationship. It wasn’t even the hot passionate sex they’d had the night they’d consummated their marriage, no, it was an almost _lazy_ kind of sex. Basking in the glow and gently kissing, nibbling, and playing with each other all the while talking and joking about the stupidest shit they could think of.

“So, Ani,” Padmé said, cuddling close to Anakin’s mid-section. “What exactly are your plans for if you… you know, get to go back to the Jedi Order or not?”

“If they take me back, I was thinking about volunteering to work in the crèches and with new initiates. I’ve always wanted to be on the High Council, but honestly, I don’t think I could bear the politics of it. Most of the masters barely tolerate me as it is. If I’m turned out of the order, I don’t know. Maybe work as a mechanic? Be an advocate for anti-slavery, maybe find work with helping decommissioned clones…”

“Those are all very good ideas,” Padmé said softly. “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be in the Senate. My proximity to Chancellor Palpatine has really put some distance between me and everyone else in the Senate building. I have a meeting with the Queen later this week to talk about it.”

“I’m sure the Council has told them enough times on how manipulative and clever Sith Lords can be,” Anakin said, grumpily.

“Most people don’t see the Jedi-Sith dichotomy, Anakin,” Padmé said, rubbing his chest in order to soothe him. “They just see people with magical powers and glowing swords and that’s about it. We’re trying to clean up the mess, but there are just a lot of questions and distrust rife in the Senate.”

Anakin grumbled, and Padmé patted him. “I’m not upset, Ani. If there’s a recall and someone else takes the Senate seat, I won’t be any worse off. I’ll still have you, Artoo and Threepio—and we’ll figure out exactly what we want to do with our lives once that’s done. We’ve got so much to look forward to, I’m sure of it.”

…

“Anakin, your surprise has arrived,” Padmé said with a sharp grin as she roused her sleeping husband. “I think you’re going to really like it.”

“Huh?” Anakin asked, blinking and rolling over, grimacing with a wince as the sheets were caught in the joint of his mechanical limb. With a swift tug, the sheet came loose and he sighed, running his metal hand through his hair before looking at Padmé’s grinning expression.

“Come on, then,” Padmé urged, grabbing him and tugging him up out of bed.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” Anakin groused.

Anakin found himself pushed into the bathroom. Padmé had apparently drawn up a rather soothing hot bath with all the scents and bubbles he’d described as finding quite intoxicating. He idly wondered what exactly his wife was aiming at, but decided that he’d play along and let her take the lead for now. Stripping off his clothes, he settled down into the warm water and happily sighed.

He must’ve nodded off briefly, because he was jarred awake by the sound of knocking on the door.

“Ani! I need you to not fall back asleep in the bath, dear. Finish up and don’t forget to wash your hair, okay?” Padmé’s voice came from the other-side, earning a chuckle from Anakin.

As soon as he emerged from the bathroom, he was snatched again by his still-enthusiastic wife.

“So, I guess now I can tell you what your surprise is,” she mused happily. “I got you some things to be pretty in, and I was thinking tonight we could go into Theed for a nice, private dinner together.”

“You… _what_?” Anakin asked.

Padmé gestured to the box sitting on the bed, with various articles of clothing strewn out on it. “It’s a gift! I think I got your measurements right, and if there’s anything here you don’t like at all, we can return it, so… surprise?”

Anakin lightly chuckled and grinned at Padmé. “You’re the best, did you know that?”

“Of course I did,” Padmé said with a sniff. “Now, Ani, stand there and let me get to work.”

“Fine, fine,” Anakin said with a roll of his eyes.

Padmé walked over to the bed and dug around the box before tossing Anakin an article of clothing. He snatched it out of the air and looked at it—it was a pair of black panties and a matching garter belt. Rather nice ones, nicer than the pair he’d crammed himself into when he was sunbathing on the terrace.

“Padmé, these are really fancy. How many creds did you _spend_?” Anakin asked nervously.

“Not enough to put a dent in my savings, Ani,” Padmé said sweetly.

Anakin eyed her like he didn’t believe her, but shucked off the towel around his waist and slipped the black panties up his legs, coming to rest at his hips. Padmé gave him a grin.

“You might want to try tucking little Anakin down, what you’ll be wearing might be a little… _revealing_ otherwise.”

Anakin grimaced and adjusted it to conceal as much of his dick as he could, earning an approving nod from Padmé, who then tossed him something else.

“You want me to wear a bra?” Anakin asked, incredulously, staring at the strapless black thing in his hands.

“Yeah, is that okay?” Padmé asked. “It’ll help with the aesthetics of the outfit I think you’d look really good in.”

Anakin eyed the garment warily. “I don’t know. I guess I could try it, but if I don’t like it, I’m not wearing it.”

“That’s fine, Ani,” Padmé said. “Let me get the padding you’re supposed to put in it, that way it doesn’t just hang off your chest awkwardly.”

She dug around the box some more before procuring a couple of synthetic breast forms and some adhesive. “Here, slip these in the cups, and stick them on. It should hold.”

“These are heavy,” Anakin said as he slipped the bra on and tucked the padding into the two cups, eyeing his chest with trepidation and wonder.

“I may have gone a little on the large side for you, but it works well with your height and body style. They’d look comically large on me, and I could only _imagine_ how silly they’d look on Ahsoka,” Padmé said with a shrug of her own. “Now, here, come sit down on the bed, I’ll help you get these stockings on.”

“Is this something women deal with all the time?” Anakin asked, incredulously.

“Women who are part of high society, often yes,” Padmé said. “Be thankful you’re not part of royalty. Those elaborate outfits and headpieces I used to wear as Queen felt like having a bantha on my head sometimes. Having to deal with stockings is a minor mercy in comparison.”

“I always liked you without all that extra stuff on,” Anakin said with a grin. “The very plain, unassuming handmaiden coming into Watto’s shop? Like an angel descending from the skies,”

“What a charming poet,” Padmé said with a smirk as she smoothed out his stockings over his thighs. “I would be careful with what you say, lest we never make it out of the house… and if we don’t, I’ll be quite upset, since this was supposed to be a fun night for the two of us.”

“Yes, your highness,” Anakin said with a casual roll of his eyes.

Padmé snorted, before fastening the stockings to the garter and giving an appraising run of her fingers along the seams. “Marvellous.”

“Handsy,” Anakin said, gently batting her hands away.

“I can’t help myself,” Padmé said cheekily. “Now, quick, before your hair dries, we’ll get it at least somewhat sorted, then you’ll just have to be patient until I’m almost ready and then we’ll finish you right up.”

“Alright,” Anakin said with a nod, allowing Padmé to guide him over to her vanity. He sat patiently, letting Padmé yank and tug on his hair, frequently tsking over how pitiful his haircare was.

“In my defence, this is years of running around on a battlefield and relying on the sonic showers to get clean after a battle. Grease is hell to get out of your hair,” Anakin murmured, earning a snicker from Padmé.

“Well, I’ll just expect you to keep up with it now that I’m making it all nice and neat,” she said knowingly, kissing him on the forehead. She continued to work on it, frequently causing Anakin to wince before giving him an appraising look and a bright grin. “Perfect.”

Anakin reached up to touch his hair and had his hand swatted away. “Don’t touch. I’ll let you look, but don’t touch.” Padmé warned.

“Okay,” Anakin said, dropping his hand as Padmé yanked down the sheet she’d tossed over the vanity mirror. Anakin blinked in surprise and grinned. He did look rather… _pretty_ like this, didn’t he? His hair was all silky smooth and looked the cleanest it had since his first bath in the Jedi Temple—and it was done up into a crown-braid, one he’d seen Padmé sport on numerous occasions when she accompanied them into the field.

He looked… _feminine_.

“So, what do you think so far?” Padmé asked, looking at him expectantly.

“I think I’m pretty,” Anakin said matter-of-factly. “But I wouldn’t want to go through all this trouble all the time.”

“Of course not, I don’t blame you at all,” Padmé said with a wry chuckle as she offered him his silk robe. “Just wear this for now and don’t get your hair all messed up. I’ve got to go clean myself up and get ready.”

Anakin graciously slipped his robe on and tied it closed, whistling at the difference it made in the mirror. The difference between being a pretty-looking _man_ and… looking very much the part of a slightly androgynous woman was there, and it was a lot nicer than he’d expected it to be.

He’d been so worried that he’d look… _weird_ like this, but seeing it for real gave him a slight boost to his self-esteem. If he could pull this off, _kriff_ , he didn’t think there was going back to _only_ wearing men’s clothes. Not by a long-shot.

A shot of thrill jumped up into his chest and Anakin couldn’t help but ogle at himself for a few minutes after Padmé left the room. He made his way out of the room and out to the terrace where Padmé had caught him sunbathing, and stood there staring out at the ocean. He needed to process what he was feeling right now.

First thing was first—he still felt like he was male. He knew that not every species in the galaxy had such a clear-cut male-female binary like humans did, but he knew that the term ‘male’ and the pronoun ‘he’ was still something he identified with, but despite that… wearing gowns and blouses and… ladies’ things was well-within his zone of comfort, and in fact, he was actually beginning to like the idea of doing it all the time, not just periodically.

It wouldn’t be much of a problem with the Jedi—their attire was so unisex, it was kind of hilarious… and Padmé seemed to be absolutely over the moon to support him and whatever he wanted to do with this idea, but he was more worried about Ahsoka and Obi-Wan specifically. He knew he was being silly and there was no reason why they wouldn’t be okay with it, but he was… just mildly concerned about them thinking he was a freak or something like that because he maybe likes the idea of being a little feminine.

That was assuming they would still speak to him after all this. They hadn’t been happy to find out he’d been married in secret, and they still weren’t returning his calls—either out of a desire to completely ignore him, or at the behest of the council to cut him off from any information about the future of his career as a Jedi Knight.

The pang of loneliness that shot through him hurt, and he grimaced. It was not the time to be sad or angry—Padmé loved him. All of him, and she was willing to put up with so much. She knew that he had some demons rattling around in his closet, but she’d committed herself to him anyway. Hopefully the galaxy wouldn’t be so hell-bent on pulling them apart now that the Sith were dealt with, and the war had ended. Maybe he could build some peace of his own, and finally find some emotional stability.

…

Padmé was sitting in her bath, hoping that the heat was the reason she was blushing ear to ear. _Gods_ , Anakin was so pretty. Like, he was really attractive and sexy when he was running around in his Jedi outfit, or when he was sleeping, shirtless… but she was finding that there was something just as intoxicating that her husband was capable of pulling off. Tall, leggy and… _Gods._

She was trying not to think about it. She was _really trying not to think about it_. But she was just so happy for Anakin—finding what it meant to be himself, what he was comfortable with… but if the side-effect was her getting to see him as both a hot man and a hot woman?

What a win-win!

“I hope I’m not being too pushy,” Padmé mused, thoughtfully. The last thing she wanted to do was _force_ Anakin to make his mind up on something. She wanted him to come to his own conclusions naturally, without being told that _this_ , whatever ‘this’ was, had to be his destiny and future and desire. If he genuinely wanted to look pretty most of the time, then that was what she’d support and encourage.

That reminded her—she did need to go on the holonet and look for some resources that might help Anakin define in exact terms what he was. She knew that there was a lot of subculture on Coruscant and in some of the inner rim and Core systems that broke down the human gender barriers and redefined _what exactly_ gender meant.

She also hoped that the bill she’d put through before leaving for the peace talks would pass the Senate—mandating all clones and Jedi commanders get therapy for their untreated PTSD was an expensive move, but she hoped it would at least heal some of the psychological damage done to the Order and to people like Anakin, Fives and Rex.

She also hoped that the Order wouldn’t be massive unrestrained _assholes_ to her husband and throw him out for doing what was a perfectly natural human thing to do. She had a decent working relationship with the Jedi, sure, but that did not mean she _approved_ of every facet of their blasted religion. Hopefully, _hopefully_ , the events of Darth Sidious and Anakin’s victory therein would give them the much needed kick in the pants they needed.

The march of history was certain now, and nothing would stop it, not even obstinate Jedi Masters.

After finishing up and making her way back into the bedroom, she found the room empty again.

“Ani?” She called out, frowning some. Where had her wayward husband gone?

She found him sitting on the couch in their sitting room, poking away at a datapad.

“Ani? Is everything alright?” She asked carefully.

Anakin looked up and grinned. “Of course. I just had to step out of the room for a little while, get my head put on straight. Angel, you’re… um, you’re okay with all this, right? You’re not just doing it to placate me, right?”

“Oh, Ani,” Padmé said, sitting down next to him and holding his hand. “Of course I’m alright with it. This was supposed to be my way of saying so. I don’t really mind what you identify as or what you want to express yourself as. I love you and I’ll always be by your side.”

Anakin gave her a bright smile, and that encouraged her to press on.

“So I was thinking about it in the bath… there are some things I might want you to go through and think over when we make our way back to Coruscant,” she said. “There’s a bill in the Senate that will strongly urge Jedi generals and the decommissioned clones to get therapy for any undiagnosed mental health problems that emerged from the war—and I think you should consider it.”

“Therapy?” Anakin asked, surprised. “I… the Jedi never really gave much stock in that, they mostly believed in meditating to put our problems aside. I… was never able to do that very well,”

“That’s why I want you to see a therapist. Also, on Coruscant, there might be some people to help you find a label for what you identify as.”

“I’m a man,” Anakin said plainly.

“Yes, you can still identify as a man if you want, but there’s probably something nuanced that lets you express your masculinity and new-found femininity in a way that’s… _Anakin_ , do you know what I mean?”

Anakin nodded. “I’d like that, I think.”

“Good,” Padmé said brightly. “Now, let’s get finished up. I still want to see how you look when it’s all put together. I’m sure you’ll put me to shame.”

“No I won’t,” Anakin said, pouting. “You’re an angel, I’m just… me.”

“Ani, you’re _gorgeous_ , stop putting yourself down,” Padmé said, nudging him. “Now come on, let’s get you ready for a night out. Neither one of us is going to worry about responsibilities, nor are we going to worry about the future. Tonight is for us, and us alone.”

Anakin smiled at his wife warmly, enjoying the constant positive attitude she seemed to always bring with her.

When they’d gotten back to the bedroom and Padmé had picked up the gown, she foisted it towards him with a grin. “Ta-da! Here we are.”

The gown itself was strapless, long and flowing, and shimmered between black, crimson and purple, with flecks of shining white in it—it looked almost like stars and the auroras that sometimes lingered at night when the sun set over Naboo.

“Sith hells,” Anakin said. “Padmé, this…”

“Isn’t it great?” She said. “I thought this kind of design would go very well with the rest of you.”

“You’re spoiling me so much, angel, I…” Anakin said, blushing.

“I want to spoil you. Come on, Ani. You deserve to be spoiled rotten. Let me do this for you. Please?”

Anakin bit his lip and nodded voraciously, accepting the offered dress. With Padmé's help, he squeezed into it, and looked at himself in the mirror once Padmé had finished zipping it up in the back. It was the lynchpin that brought everything together, along with the long matching gloves that covered up his arms all the way to his bicep, completely hiding the fact he had a prosthetic arm below the elbow at all.

He wasn’t going to lie—he was… _incredibly_ turned on by his own appearance when he looked at himself in the mirror. He bit his lip again and turned to face Padmé.

“I love it,” he said, and she smiled back at him and gently placed her hand on his cheek.

“Good. We just need to do your makeup and you’ll be ready. I’m very excited.”

“You’re excited? Just imagine how I’m feeling right now,” He said faintly.

“Don’t be nervous, Ani,” Padmé said with a reassuring squeeze of his arm. “The restaurant we’re going to is closing for everyone but us. It’ll be minimal exposure to the public, I promise. The owner is an old friend of my father’s, and he’s very discreet about things like this.”

“What if there’s press hanging around, trying to get pictures of us?” Anakin asked. “I don’t want this to be leaked out all over the holonet.”

Padmé waved her hand. “There’s a reason _he_ was able to come to prominence here. When was the last time you saw Naboo endorse rumour-mongering?”

Anakin blinked and felt a little of his concern ebb away. “Okay, you’re right, I’m just… nervous, that’s all.”

“That’s understandable. Let me get my dress on and we’ll start on the last touches.”

...

Anakin got his first glimpse of _Padmé’s_ dress and felt his jaw go slack. She was wearing a short black dress of her own, showing off almost all of her legs.

“Oh _Gods_ ,” Anakin murmured.

“You like it? I thought if you’re going out of your usual style, so should I. I’ve been told that I have the legs to pull this off,” she said with a smirk.

“Pull it off? You’re not just pulling it off, you’re… you’re… absolutely demolishing it,” Anakin said, the blush on his face at full blast.

Padmé simply kissed him on the nose before gesturing to the vanity table with her head. “We don’t have long to finish.”

Anakin nodded, before gently wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her butt. “I’m going to go crazy looking at you all night.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Padmé said, gently dropping her eyes to Anakin’s fake cleavage, licking her lips. “Would you be offended if I said I wish these were real?”

Anakin blinked. “Uh, no, I guess not,” He said with a sheepish grin.

“I think you look wonderful with or without, but they just work so well,” Padmé murmured. “Now, let’s see. I think the crimson you were wearing the other day would go _very well_ with this. Ooh, I wonder if I have any black lipstick. That’d be even better…”

…

“There, done,” Padmé said with a grin. “Take a look at yourself now!”

Anakin peered in the mirror and felt a mixture of sheer euphoria and getting punched in the chest. He had shiny black lips and his skin was very smooth looking. Even his scar was gone, hidden behind a wall of concealer and base.

“Look at how pretty you are,” Padmé said gently in his ear. “How do you feel about that?”

“I love it,” Anakin said. “I absolutely love it.”

“I’m glad,” Padmé said, smiling. “I was a little worried I was going to scare you by going so far with it.”

“No, I’m glad you’ve encouraged me to do this,” Anakin said, knitting his eyebrows together. “I would’ve never had the confidence to do this. I try… to be what people want me to be. You know, a good Jedi, all that. But… this feels good. And right, and I couldn’t have asked for anybody to help me do it more than you, Padmé. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Ani. I’m glad you’re happy. I left your heels over there by the bed. Go ahead and get them on and try them out for a bit while I add a splash of colour,” Padmé said with a soft smile. “You’re already so tall, so I got you some lower heels to try on.”

“I don’t think I could do tall heels,” Anakin said with a snort. “At least with low heels I’m already used to that.”

“Exactly. I wasn’t going to _completely_ torture you,” Padmé said with a wink.

“Well _thanks_ ,” Anakin said with a roll of his eyes, making his way over to where the heels were sitting. Looking at them carefully—they were rather large and chunky, but he could see how they’d fit the rest of his outfit. Shrugging his shoulders, he slipped his feet into them and stood up, teetering a bit as he got used to the slight difference between his typical heeled boots and these things. It was a slight difference, nothing too major, but it took a little getting used to as he paced the room, trying to walk like he’d seen Padmé walk before.

“Not bad, you don’t have to overdo it so much,” Padmé chimed in, glancing at her husband through the mirror. “With practice, it’ll get easier.”

Once Padmé had finished her makeup—a far less ostentatious thing than Anakin; mostly a simple splash of colour here or there to improve the aesthetics of her outfit, the two of them made to finish their preparations to go out to dinner.

“Should I bring my com, just in case?” Anakin asked, hefting the device in his hands as he frowned in thought. “I don’t… what if someone calls and…?”

“You should just leave it here—nothing’s that important,” Padmé said with a gesture. “I have mine anyway, and everyone knows not to call me unless it’s an emergency. There’s a good chance that if anybody’s trying to get a hold of you and can’t, they’ll call me next.”

“You’re right,” Anakin said with a grin, placing his comm back on the counter. He grabbed the handbag that Padmé had offered, and gently linked his arm in hers as they made their way out of the estate and up the walkway to the landing pad.

“I haven’t seen much of Fives lately, what’s he been up to?”

“He knows that we’ve been trying to reconnect, so he’s been taking one of the guesthouses. I let him know we’d need a ride to Theed, and he was very gracious.”

“Wait, you mean-” Anakin stopped, a look of fear crossing his face. “But-”

“Ani, I’m right here. You know Fives is a good man, he wouldn’t say anything untoward or laugh at you.

Anakin closed his eyes and nodded some, before gently linking his arm with hers again. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“No worries.”

When they crested the hill, Fives was waiting by a ship—not Padmé personal yacht ship, the most recognizable ship this side of the galaxy, but a smaller one that looked like it had been a hand-me-down from the GAR. His firm, steely look gave way to a blink of shock as he took in the sight of his two passengers.

“Senator… General,” he said, a little awkwardly. “We’re ready to go if you are.”

“Thank you, Fives,” Padmé said happily. “Come on, Ani.”

“Good to see you again, Fives. You look like civilian service agrees with you,” Anakin said quietly, grinning at him.

“Good to see you too, uh, sir.” Fives said, and Anakin had to admit that the clone was doing a remarkable job of not saying anything about Anakin’s current appearance.

“Thanks for not making a big deal out of this,” Anakin grinned, placing a hand on Fives’ shoulder.

“I was grown in a tank with a bunch of people who look just like me. Who am I to criticize someone being outside of what people would define as normal?” Fives said, shrugging. “Now get a move on, I’m sure your lady’s getting impatient.”

“As always,” Anakin said with a snort and a grin, climbing the steps to the ship and making his way to where Padmé was sitting.

“See, I told you Fives would be okay with it,” Padmé said with a grin, swatting her husband’s shoulder.

“You were right, as usual. If he’s fine with it, I can’t imagine Rex being weird about it either,” Anakin said with a grin.

“That’s the spirit!” Padmé encouraged with a nod. “Now sit back, relax, and take your mind off all that, and enjoy our quiet evening together.”

…

The trip to Theed took about ninety minutes, give or take. The isolation of Lake Country from the planetary capital had given them the time to fill the trip with small talk about possible things to do on Naboo before they were recalled to their respective duties. The non-descript nature of their ship made landing at Theed’s spaceport a lot easier, and the fact that Padmé looked remarkably out of character, and Anakin looked nearly unrecognizable to those who didn’t know him so well made getting a taxi to the area of the city where the restaurant was located an easy thing.

Making small talk to the taxi driver had been a fun experiment in coming up with identities. Anakin was a soft-spoken and rather shy young lady from the Core who had come to Naboo to take in the sights and see some of the war memorials for what was effectively the earliest start to the protracted conflict that had become the Clone Wars, while Padmé was a native, and the young girl’s long-term pen pal.

After they’d disembarked from the taxi, Padmé had given Anakin a bright grin, and gently punched his shoulder. “You should consider going into acting, _Maru_. Where’d you even come up with that name, anyway?”

Anakin looked a little conflicted before carefully speaking. “Maru is a name that carries a lot of… _weight_ among the group of people I came from on Tatooine. I can’t say much more than that.”

“That’s fine,” Padmé said warmly. “I know that there’s a lot about your past that’s difficult to talk about. I understand completely.”

“That statue is always so surreal to look at it,” Anakin commented, trying to change the subject as they passed by the statue of his nine-year-old self wearing a pilot’s helmet. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Do you know how many children were named Anakin after that day?” Padmé asked, seriously. “I’m surprised none of them ended up with the Jedi.”

“Maybe some of them did, but I was never involved with the crèches or initiates, so I wouldn’t know. Ahsoka was really the first youngling I interacted with after Obi-Wan and I got sent on bigger missions and stuff like that,” Anakin said, shrugging. “For all I know there could very well be a few Initiates and Padawans with the same name as me. I guess they would be about that age by now, but I’ve never bothered to ask anyone.”

“The N1 you flew is also in the memorial museum,” Padmé said. “I haven’t been inside in years, too painful to remember.”

“Yeah, me either—I’ve never gone into it,” Anakin said with a wince. “I just… don’t want to be reminded of any of that sordid affair, particularly not when we’re just coming out of an even worse war.”

Padmé nodded in agreement.

The restaurant itself wasn’t too assuming, and the owner of it was standing outside waiting.

“Ah! Padmé, my dear! How good to see you again,” he said genially, grinning at her ear to ear. He was a portly fellow with a curly moustache, very jovial too.

“Sélo,” Padmé said with a grin. “Thank you for fitting the two of us in on such short notice. I wanted to show my friend a good time on Naboo before she goes back to Coruscant.”

“Of course. Any friend of Padmé is a friend of mine. A pleasure to meet you, my lady,” he said, gently taking Anakin’s hand and kissing it in the custom of respect in Naboo. “What might your name be?”

“Maru,” Anakin said with a crooked smile, glancing at Padmé who seemed quite content to let him flounder. “Maru Rainseeker.”

“Rainseeker? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that surname. Outer Rim, isn’t it?” Sélo asked.

“Uh, yes!” Anakin said, trying to keep his calm. This is why he was abysmal at negotiations. Anything that required being diplomatic and not punching or slashing things was so far out of his forte… “My parents were from the Outer Rim, but we moved closer to the Core because of the war.”

“Ah, well, I hope that with peace, your parents can go back to where they lived before all this mess started. I’m sure a lot of their lives were left behind there,” he said solemnly. “Ah, but enough of that sordid business. Please, come in, I’m sure you both are famished.”

Anakin followed behind Padmé and Sélo as they were escorted to a very nice round table in the centre of the restaurant. Anakin had to fight down a blush as Sélo pulled out Anakin’s chair for him.

“Lady Maru,” he said warmly, before doing the same for Padmé.

“Take your time in ordering. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let us know. By the way, Padmé, I heard the news on the holo. I can’t believe you married Anakin Skywalker! When he comes to planet, I’m sure he’s very busy with all his Jedi things, please bring him by. I’d love to meet the Hero with No Fear.”

“He’s a very private individual sometimes, and you know how the Jedi are with their knights,” Padmé said, waving her hand. “I will see what I can do about convincing him to come along sometime. Thank you.”

He bowed his head and left the room, leaving them alone. Padmé broke out into a fit of giggles.

“See? I told you that you had nothing to worry about!”

Anakin blinked in shock and looked a little winded. “He had no idea. He _had no idea_.”

“Of course he didn’t. The only people who could tell that you’re who you really are would be people who know you intimately, or people who have a bond with you, like Ahsoka and Obi-Wan. The only reason I can tell is because I’m the one that dolled you up. If I didn’t know any better, and it was just at-a-glance, I’d just presume you’re another girl out for an enjoyable evening.”

“Let’s see how the rest of the night goes before we call it _enjoying_. So far it’s been pleasant, but I’m not going to be hasty,” Anakin said quickly, looking at the menu.

After a couple minutes of musing, a short girl made her way to their table.

“What can I get the two of you?” she asked, smiling softly.

“I’d like the whitemelon tea,” Anakin said softly, the waitress nodding as she scribbled away.

“I’d like a Blue Harvest,” Padmé said with a grin of her own.

“Ah, excellent choice,” the waitress said with a nod. “That’s our most popular drink.”

“Blue Harvest?” Anakin asked, with a raised eyebrow, looking at the entry on the menu. “Have you had it before?”

“Once or twice—don’t worry, Maru, I’ll let you try it,” Padmé said with a smile.

“Wonderful. Would you two ladies like to order your meals now, or should I come back?” the waitress asked, looking between the two. They each ordered a meal of their own choosing—Anakin liked the look of a local fish and berry dish, while Padmé opted for a salad of greens. Neither one of them were really heavy eaters—Anakin having lived his entire life off rations and whatever food he could get his hands on, and Padmé having tired of constantly eating heavy meals as Queen, making up for it as an adult by eating light more frequently than not.

“I know you’ve said that if you were born here you’d never leave, but do you think you could make a life here?” Padmé asked once they’d been served their food. Anakin looked thoughtful as he cut into his meal, and took a couple bites before responding.

“I mean… maybe? I don’t know, I almost miss the constant mess of noise and activity from Coruscant. Varykino is a nice get-away, but… living my _entire life there_? It’s awfully isolated, but where else would we go? I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else, really.”

Padmé nodded, and looked thoughtful. “That was the same thoughts I had about the whole thing. Coruscant or Naboo would be the only places I’d really feel comfortable living. Maybe Alderaan, but I don’t think I’d fit in there very well. Besides, these are my people, it’d be weird to move away for good.”

“I never want to go back to Tatooine, ever,” Anakin said, with a huff. “I’d sooner go to _Mustafar_.”

“I would never ask you to go back to Tatooine. Naboo can be your people too,” Padmé said assuringly, gently resting her hand on Anakin’s.

As if on a cosmic cue, Padmé comm began to ring, causing her to blink. Reaching into her handbag, she drew it out and looked at who was calling.

“It’s Ahsoka,” she said, glancing up at Anakin, who, despite the makeup on his face, had definitely gone pale. “I won’t answer it unless you want me to.”

“No, you… you should,” Anakin said, retreating a bit into himself. “It might be an emergency.”

Padmé nodded and pressed the button to answer, and the holographic image of Anakin’s padawan sprang to life. “Senator,”

“Ahsoka, how many times have I told you? Call me Padmé. What’s wrong?”

“I tried to call Skyguy, but his comm’s turned off. Is he with you? I have some news that he really needs to hear.”

Padmé’s eyes flicked up to her husband, who looked like he was contemplating something. With a deep breath, he stared at the comm before nodding.

“Ahsoka, I’m going to put you on hold for just a second—Anakin will be right there,” she said, before pressing the hold button and looking at Anakin carefully.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asked.

“She should know. I don’t want to keep this a secret from her and Obi-Wan. She can tease me as much as she wants, but I want her to know,” Anakin said. “I’ll just take this somewhere private.”

Accepting the comm from Padmé, he made his way through the restaurant to the women’s restroom. Making sure nobody was watching, he slipped in and set the comm down on the sink counter, and pressed the button to bring it off hold.

“I’m here, Snips,” he said, folding his arms underneath his… chest. Ahsoka’s face flickered from concern and into shock as she took in the sight of her master.

“Skyguy?” she asked, dumbfounded.

Anakin couldn’t help but blush, looking away from the holographic image of his padawan. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. What do you need?”

“Um, Obi-Wan wanted me to call you and let you know the Council’s made their decision. He couldn’t tell me all the details because they want to see you in person, but it sounds like you’ll be allowed to stay a Jedi after all, and that you may have a serious job to do on Coruscant for them.”

Anakin felt a wave of relief fall over him, and he flashed Ahsoka a grin. “That’s good news. I’ve been driving myself crazy over the last six months that they were going to throw me out.”

Ahsoka shrugged. “I don’t think that was ever really on the table, not after you became the biggest thing on the holo and became the posterchild of the Order. Um, Skyguy, what’s with…?”

“It’s a very long story, and one I don’t really feel like sharing over holo. I’ll be back on Coruscant soon, can we talk then, instead?”

“Of course, Master,” she said good-naturedly.

“And please do not mention this to anyone. I’m begging you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ahsoka said soothingly. “You’re… um, pretty. Is that okay to say?”

Anakin blushed again. “Padmé agrees, so yeah, I guess that’s fine. I’ll see you later, Snips. I’ve got to get back to dinner.”

“Enjoy your dinner, Skyguy. I’ll see you when you get back. Ahsoka out.”

The comm blinked out, and Anakin took a deep, shuddering breath. He didn’t realize just how much anxiety he was carrying in every one of his organic limbs, and it showed as he slowly made his way back to the table.

“How did it go?” Padmé asked, anxiously.

“It could not have gone better,” Anakin said with a bright smile. “She was cool with it, and I told her I’d explain everything when I get back to Coruscant. Apparently the Council has decided that I’m still useful to them, and that I’m most likely _not_ expelled from the Order. They want to see me as soon as possible, though.”

Padmé smiled, and gently rested her hand on Anakin’s gloved hand. “Are you okay with that? Is that what you wanted?”

“I don’t think I’ll mind it so much, depending on what they want me to do,” Anakin said thoughtfully. “Whatever it is, though—it’s a load off my mind now.”

“Good,” Padmé said warmly.

The rest of their meal passed in a low amicable volume, Anakin letting himself get lost a bit in enjoying the night with his wife, and he found that… ultimately, he didn’t feel that much different with how he _currently looked_ to how he usually looked when he went out and did things. It was a pleasant bit of self-discovery, and one that he knew he’d have to explore some more to get a little better of a grasp on what it meant to be himself.

After paying for their meal, the two of them spent the taxi ride and flight back to Varykino in a companionable silence, their hands locked together, heads resting on each other, enjoying each other’s presence.

After they landed and disembarked, Fives gave them a smile and a nod. “Good night, you two. Don’t be up too late,” he said, smugly.

Anakin merely fixed him with a stare as Fives walked to the guesthouse, laughing at his own joke.

“Hmm, maybe he’s right, maybe we shouldn’t be up too late,” Padmé said, with a smirk.

“Are you kidding me?” Anakin said, gently running his gloved thumb over her chin. “You’re far too delicious to not be dessert.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” Padmé asked, grinning herself.

“Yeah, maybe it is,” Anakin said smugly. His smug expression was wiped off his face when Padmé grabbed him and pulled his head down and gave him a deep, loving kiss, before pulling away and smacking her lips with a grin.

“If you want more than that, get your cute butt moving,” Padmé said, pointing towards the door of the estate.

“Yes, ma’am,” Anakin said gleefully. As he started forward, he felt a sharp pinch on his ass, and nearly leapt in the air in shock. He spun around to look at his wife with a glare, who merely returned with an innocent look.

“What?” she said, smugly.

“Oh, you’re going to _get it_ ,” Anakin said, picking her up in his arms and dashing down the stairs as fast as he could in his high-heels.

“It’ll take a lot more than that to break me,” Padmé teased. “You’re the one who’ll be begging when we’re done.”

“We’ll see about that!” Anakin said with a scoff, closing the door to the outside with the Force as he carried her towards the bedroom.


	2. Let The Good Times Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW - Anakin and Padmé get intimate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an NSFW chapter-- hence why it's very short. Enjoy.

As soon as they’d made it through the threshold of the bedroom, they were both laughing at the sheer absurdity of their light ribbing of each other as they fell down into the bed together. Padmé quickly moved, climbing on top of her husband and pinning his wrists down.

“Now you can be the damsel in distress!” she said with a grin.

“Oh, no, how shall I ever escape?” Anakin said dryly. “What are you going to do to me?”

“You’ll soon find out,” Padmé said mischievously, kicking her heels off, causing them to sail to the other-side of the room, bouncing off the wall. Anakin wiggled his own off, causing them to drop to the ground with a _clunk_.

Padmé leaned down and peppered Anakin’s neck with kisses, intermixing it with the occasional _bite_ , which solicited a mixture of stifled laughter and aroused hisses from him.

“Oh kriff,” Anakin murmured. It would be trivial to… just break out of the grip Padmé had him in, he could very easily levitate her away, but he was liking what he was feeling right now. Being pinned down like he was prevented him from acting on the pooling arousal he was feeling. His wife was firmly in control, and he couldn’t even squirm as much as he wanted to as she gently administered affection to him.

“Like that, Ani?” Padmé said with a throaty laugh. She gently ran her hands down his collarbone, gently stroking her finger down into his faux-cleavage. “Arch your back, Ani.”

Anakin complied, and Padmé deftly unzipped the back of his dress. With a stiff tug, it came loose, slipping down over his the top of bra, exposing the black lace garment. Leaning back down again, she gently traced her way across his collarbone and down his chest with a mixture of kisses and love-nibbles, soliciting periodic shudders and moans from her husband.

Padmé reached over and grabbed some of the blankets that had fallen to the floor, and quickly tied her husband’s hands up on the bedposts, pinning his arms in place. She climbed off of Anakin and moved to the end of the bed, looking at her husband with a smirk on her face. Anakin’s face was bright red and the haze of sex had fallen across his face, a lop-sided smile beaming back at her.

Pulling his dress the rest of the way off, Padmé gently reached up and pressed his straining dick with the palm of her hand, feeling the small wet spot that had started to accumulate where the tip of his dick was. “You’re eager, aren’t you?” She said knowingly. “You like being pretty, and you like it when I treat you like this.”

“Padmé,” Anakin whined, arching, trying to thrust into the palm of her hand.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Ani,” Padmé said gently, tracing her finger along the ridges of his garter belt. With a swift stroke of her hand, she popped the clasps of the garter, quickly tugging it down Anakin’s legs and tossing it aside. Padmé gently stroked her hands along the laced tops of his stockings, before reaching up and hooking her thumbs over the laced edges of his panties. With a tug, Anakin’s dick sprang free—looking swollen and red from being so tightly confined. It was slick with precum and glistened in the low light. Padmé gently leaned in and ran her tongue along the bottom of the shaft up to where it stopped at the head, and gave her lips a loud smack.

She gently pushed Anakin’s legs up, causing him to bend his knees, while spreading him open. She then gently ran her tongue over the head before giving it a gentle suck, earning a shuddering spasm from Anakin, who moaned her name out again.

“Eager little pillow princess,” Padmé praised.

Anakin let out a soft laugh in between his shuddering breaths, which quickened again as Padmé went back to licking and sucking, allowing Anakin to gently rock back and forth in tune.

“Padmé,” he said with a stifled moan, his dick beginning to spasm. With a loud groan, he exploded the whole of his load inside of her mouth. She gently withdrew from his dick and after a moment’s consideration, swallowed the load and wiped her mouth with her hand. Anakin looked hazed, staring at her with love in his eyes.

Padmé gave him another grin and climbed up between his legs and positioned herself on top of him again.

“How did that feel? Something new, I thought you might enjoy it.”

“That was mind-blowing,” Anakin said. “Now let me return the favor,”

Before Padmé could lean down and kiss her husband, she suddenly felt everything flip around and she found herself lying on the bed, Anakin looking down at her with his arms folded underneath his… impressive bust, grinning at her with his usual cocky grin.

“You… cheater,” Padmé said with a pout.

“Oh, but how could I ever hope to surprise you if I didn’t cheat a little bit?” Anakin asked with a grin of his own, as he leaned in and kissed her—repeating much the same process she had, moving down from her lips to her chin and neck, with a brief detour to her ears, where he nibbled on her ear lobes soliciting a stifled moan from his wife.

In a manner that Padmé found strangely hot yet a little impersonal, he stripped her of her dress with the Force, before gently peeling back the cups of her bra with his teeth, exposing her nipples, which he patiently ran his tongue over, earning a gasp of arousal each time he did it.

“Oh Gods,” Padmé said, gripping the bed.

“Is it that good?” Anakin joked as he gently rubbed his thumbs over her erect nipples.

“Like electricity going up your spine,” she murmured in pleasure.

“Mm,” Anakin replied, gently massaging her tits before running his hands down to her panties. After doing away with the garter belt, Anakin nearly tore her panties off, taking in the fact she was dripping wet with a smug satisfaction. He bent down and began to kiss and suck on her nipples as she felt him gently probe her vagina with his fingers. As he intensified his ministrations, she felt him slowly start to pump back and forth, doubling the growing inferno of arousal she was feeling in the pit of her stomach.

He slowed down before withdrawing completely, and propping her thighs up on his shoulders, pulling her forward to where he could get to her.

Padmé nearly swore when she felt his tongue penetrate into her vagina, squirming as he deftly maneuvered between the folds with his tongue. They weren’t necessarily doing anything out of the ordinary for them, but this was probably the most passion-filled sex they’d had since they consummated their marriage.

With a group of shuddering gasps, she came to a series of orgasms in quick succession, all the tautness in her muscles giving way almost immediately. Anakin gently lowered her back to the bed and climbed his way up to her, propping himself up on the bed next to her.

She struggled slightly to get up again, but when she did, she also propped herself up, before rolling on top of him and kissing him deeply, sliding her tongue in without objection. The two made out for a while, smearing what remained of their lipstick before Padmé withdrew—looking smug and satisfied that she’d gotten in the final assertion of dominance between the two of them.

Sweating profusely, they fell back onto the bed, gently wrapped in each other’s embrace, Padmé resting her head on Anakin’s chest.

“You’re amazing,” Anakin murmured, gently running his thumb over her cheek. “I love you,”

“Love you too,” Padmé said, almost purring in satisfaction. “So, did I win?”

“Hmm,” Anakin said dryly. “I think we need to ask the judges. Judges? The judges agree that you definitely did.”

“Good,” she said with a snort. “I told you you’d be begging when we’re done.”

“Naturally,” Anakin said with a smile, gently running his fingers along Padmé’s collarbone. “I think I want to do what you said. Talk to people who might be able to help me figure out what exactly it means to be me. I… really had a good time tonight. I want to do this again.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I told you that you had nothing to worry about,” Padmé said smugly. “I think I could definitely do this again too. It was fun.”

She sighed. “So, back to Coruscant,” she said wryly. “You know, I almost don’t want to go back at all. We didn’t get enough time together here.”

“You could come back with me—you don’t have to go back to work immediately. We could stay at one of the nicer hotels in the upper levels, or I could sneak you into my quarters,” Anakin suggested. “You don’t have to go back to your senatorial apartment if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t think I want to stay here without you,” Padmé said with a sigh. “We’ve had more time to be intimate and an actual married couple over the last few days than we’ve ever in our entire marriage. I don’t want to just go back to being random strangers sometimes.”

“We won’t be,” Anakin said firmly. “The lothalcat’s out of the bag—and everyone knows about it. I won’t pretend that you’re not my wife, and that I’m not head over heels in love with you.”

“Ani,” Padmé breathed, smiling widely. “You promise?”

“Cross my heart,” Anakin said firmly. “I love you more than life itself.”

Padmé gave him a watery smile, gently snuggling closer to him and smiling happily.

The two of them could not have asked for a better resolution to their raging inferno of self-doubt. Padmé had long been worried that she’d rushed into the relationship with Anakin. She loved him, but she knew he was sometimes a little reckless and didn’t always think things through. Anakin promising that she was the most important thing to him warmed her heart.

For Anakin—having his angel so supportive, so kind, so willing to help him be the best possible _he_ that he could be, was worth more than its weight in cred chips. He didn’t need to be a Master Jedi or even a Jedi at all, if he had his wife by his side.

As they cuddled together, Anakin eventually let out a snort of amusement.

“What?” Padmé asked, glancing at her husband.

“I think I kinda like these things,” Anakin said, gently prodding his chest, before reaching back and popping the bra off. The synthetic forms weren’t _quite_ an exact match for Anakin’s skin tone, a very clear difference in color being visible along the seam where they were attached to his chest. He then shifted a bit and laid back further, sighing in happiness, gently curling his arms around Padmé and pulling her closer.

She felt the press of the synthetic forms in her back and his dick pressing against her. It made her blush some, as her mind wandered back down the wormhole of naughty things she’d really like to do to Anakin, or with Anakin. There were whole books full of things they could try out with their new-found passion.

They fell asleep spooning, blissful smiles on their faces.


	3. Emotion and Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Padmé return to Coruscant.

Their departure from Naboo was almost a little bittersweet. Anakin sighed and tried to sit back in his and Padmé’s quarters as the galaxy streaked by in a great blue blur.

“The trip will be awhile,” he murmured, the dread he’d been feeling about his confrontation with the Jedi Council pooling in his stomach. The vague reassurances of Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were a balm to soothe his soul but he still felt restless and unhappy at facing up to the white lies he told to protect himself and Padmé.

He took a deep breath and tried to let go of his ball of anxiety into the Force. It didn’t go that far, and clung stubbornly to him like a permanent reminder of how much of a Jedi he _wasn’t_. If the Jedi thing didn’t work out, perhaps stepping into the shallows of the political ring wouldn’t be too bad. He was no diplomat, but he was stubborn and good at bartering and haggling. Being a slave in the keep of a seller of kriffing _junk_ and then later becoming one of the most high profile commanding officers in the entire Galaxy wasn’t for nothing.

A cause that was noble and just, he could see himself fighting for in the political trenches. Clone personhood, the absolute abolition of slavery across every star system, the reform of the republican system to erase the awful loopholes and legal twists that Sidious had used to his benefit before his exposure… but perhaps there were other things he could do if he remained a Jedi.

He remembered the history lessons he sat through, though he’d nearly fallen asleep in all of them. Before the Ruusan Reformation and the birth of the modern Republic, the Jedi had been a military force all their own, unbeholden to that of the Republic– they had Lords and military ranks, ships, weapons and insignia–and the Order allowed for the training of Padawans and prospective initiates off of Coruscant, across the galaxy at-wide.

The Ruusan Reformation had put a halt to all of those things– forcing the Jedi Order to bend the knee to the Senate and Supreme Chancellor, abolishing the Jedi military and all the traps and trimmings that accompanied it, and constraining the Jedi Order to one dogmatic view of the Force, centred over Coruscant.

It was heterodoxical, perhaps– but Anakin had to admit that one single person having the final say on Jedi matters for one thousand years unbroken was probably a poor decision to make, and a poor tradition to uphold. He had the utmost respect for Master Yoda– of course he did, how could one not respect the wisdom and knowledge of someone who had been attuned to the Force for a measurable length of the Republic’s lifespan?

But, in spite of that, if he wanted to reform the Jedi Order, and there was a part of him– those grand responsibilities he felt as the professed Chosen One To Restore Balance– that did want to do it, then he’d need to research even more than just the Ruusan Reformation, and maybe confront the Council on their refusal to bend to the winds of change. Yoda was wise, but he was also old– he, and the Council, were mired in their old ways.

‘Where had those old ways lead them?’ Anakin considered.

A war that they had no place fighting in. Condoning the enslavement of sentients, turning a blind eye to the injustices in the name of the greater good. On more than one occasion, Anakin had been forced to find common ground with the Hutt that gripped his home planet in an iron grip– on more than one occasion, Anakin had been forced to turn his back on the promise he’d made as a child.

To free the slaves.

Feeling the anger welling within him, Anakin took a deep breath and tried to focus. Anger was useful… in small doses. Anger allowed for revolution, for change, for the growth of new hope in a dark time. Anger could be good, but it was also a dangerous, intoxicating thing.

Sidious hadn’t been completely wrong when he’d criticized the Jedi for being stagnant, for being unwilling to listen and change… but the way that sleemo Sith saw things was a nightmare too. Orchestrating the deaths of trillions of sentients in a grand chess game to usurp power from the Jedi Order and democracy, to build a new Sith Empire that would ravage the galaxy for centuries to come.

Anger and violence was not the solution, as much as Anakin wished it were– violence and anger were easy, they didn’t require diplomacy and justification and argument to reach desired results. No, only diplomacy would put this long nightmare to rest once and for all.

Padmé came into the room, looking a bit annoyed.

“What’s wrong, angel?” Anakin asked, watching as his wife face-planted into the bed, groaning loudly.

“The Senate is what’s wrong,” she groused. “One-hundred and fifty one _separate_ drafts of a unilateral peace treatise between the Separatist worlds and the Republic. Some of those drafts grant pure amnesty to all Separatist systems, and return the full legal rights of entities like the Trade Federation as if they didn’t openly commit treason. Many of those treaties have the backing of the few remaining Separatist governments, claiming that since both head of state were Sith…”

“They should not be punished for the actions of a Sith Lord and his apprentice,” Anakin finished for her, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Has the Council waded into this discussion at all?”

“No, though Obi-Wan did mention that was one of the things discussed– whether or not they should wade into that argument.”

“They’re afraid,” Anakin said with a huff. “Nobody wants to be the one who starts the next big war,”

“As much as I loathe admitting it,” Padmé said with a sigh. “They do have a point. All of us, from the Jedi to the Trade Federation, were played like a Geonosian fiddle and made fools of because one geriatric Sith Lord orchestrated the biggest conflict this side of the Mandalorian Wars.”

“Doesn’t change that they bankrolled war against the Republic and supported the death of millions of clones, and hundreds of Jedi,” Anakin said, frowning. “The Jedi will say that it was the will of the Force and that wanting vengeance for that is the path to the Dark, but it’s true. The Jedi were forced to forsake their pacifistic nature– their role as diplomats and peacekeepers, to be the enforcers of the status quo– the dedicated warriors for the protection of reactionaries.”

“I would hardly call us reactionary,” Padmé protested, and Anakin glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. He said nothing, though the disbelieving look on his face made clear the fact he didn’t agree with her assertion one bit.

“They thought they could do it in secret, and reap the rewards when Sidious fashioned himself Emperor of the whole galaxy, and now they’re desperately trying to tread above water, calling in favours and blackmail where they can to entrench themselves in the peace process.”

“So you’d just crush them with the might of the GAR?” Padmé asked sharply. “Since when did you have such a keen eye for the politics?”

“Padmé,” Anakin said, rubbing his face. “I don’t _like_ politics. I actively choose to _avoid_ politics where I can, but you don’t survive slavery on Tatooine without learning a little bit about how to politic your way around your master’s patterned behaviour. Also: for point of fact, I’ve spent _how long_ around you, Obi-Wan and to some degree, Sidious? I’m not exactly the dimmest star in the galaxy.”

“Sorry,” Padmé said, wincing. “I’m just not used to you being… so thoughtful and open.”

“I can’t let people _tell me_ how to live my life anymore,” Anakin said simply. “I’ve got to do my best to be myself… and if that _bothers_ people, well, life is far too short to deal with that.”

…

Their arrival on Coruscant was as inconspicuous as it could be, given the circumstances. Avoiding landing in the Senate District or anywhere else that might draw undue attention, Fives had put them down at the Jedi Temple itself, where they were met by Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathed. “It’s so good to see you again.” The palpable relief and joy in the older man’s voice took Anakin by surprise at first, before he found himself wrapped in a bear hug.

“You’re not mad at me?”

Obi-Wan let him go and looked at him squarely. “I’m not _mad_ at you, Anakin,” he said softly, gently resting his hands on Anakin’s shoulders. “I’m a little annoyed you felt you couldn’t come to me about it, but I understand why you didn’t. I think just about everyone _knew_ there was something between you and Senator Amidala, just not _how_ much that something was,”

“But, the rules about attachment, why didn’t-”

“While there are some in the temple who are vehement in their belief of the sanctity of that rule, there are many more who believe that is what makes life worth living. Do you think you’re the first Jedi to fall in love with someone, and have that conflict with their duty?”

“They would’ve thrown me out of the Order, Obi-Wan. With the war, and not wanting to disappoint you…”

“You’ve never disappointed me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t think either one of us would have prospered as well with anybody else but each other. With hindsight to fall back, I couldn’t have asked for a better padawan–and brother.”

Obi-Wan sighed and frowned. “Besides– when I said you’re not the first Jedi, what I mean to say is that I’m not exactly innocent myself, but I never put my stock in the idea of ever following through with my desires.”

“Satine,” Anakin said, a glimpse of the interactions between Obi-Wan and the Duchess of Mandalore flashing through his mind.

Obi-Wan tucked his hands in his robes and nodded. “I saw myself perhaps, once all this was said and done, leaving the Order and joining her as her consort. I loved her very dearly.”

“She wouldn’t have wanted you to… suffer, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said. “She knew that her life was on a tenuous blade’s edge. Nobody could’ve anticipated what happened,”

“That’s something I’ve been asking myself these last few months on Coruscant,” Obi-Wan said sagely, deflecting the issue entirely.

Anakin gave him a crooked smile. “Thank you. That makes me feel a lot better going to face the Council.”

“I think you’ll be surprised at their conclusions, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, before turning to face Padmé. As he made to give her the cordial deference as could be expected a lady Senator, Padmé pushed her way past that and embraced Obi-Wan in a hug.

“We’re family, Obi-Wan,” she admonished. “I won’t stand on formalities with family.”

“Family, then,” Obi-Wan said. “How have you been, Sen- ahem, Padmé?”

“It’s been unbelievable,” Padmé said with a theatrical sigh. “Over a hundred and fifty Senate committees vying for the rights to pen the final drafts of the peace treaties with the planets of the Confederacy…”

As Obi-Wan and Padmé went ahead of him, Anakin took in a deep breath and glanced at his Padawan.

“I hope you haven’t missed me too much, Snips,” Anakin said.

“I’m glad to see you again too, Master,” Ahsoka spoke up, squaring her shoulders and looking at Anakin. “I… I missed you. A lot. I was uncertain when Master Yoda first told me I was going to be your Padawan, but honestly, I don’t think being anybody else’s padawan would’ve been nearly as much fun.”

“You’re such a flatterer, Ahsoka,” Anakin said with a grin, before shaking his head. “How are things with you and Barriss?” He asked, a smirk on his face.

Ahsoka’s skin flushed dark orange and she looked at Anakin with a frown. “How’d you find out?”

“You act around her the way I act around my wife,” Anakin said with a grin at his Padawan.

Ahsoka looked away from him. “Yeah, it’s um, going good,”

“Well, I’m glad,” Anakin said with a grin. “Provided they don’t throw me out of the Order completely, I look forward to seeing you be knighted.”

“Master?” Ahsoka asked.

“If they won’t give you your knighthood after fighting in a war, I’ll kick their asses,” Anakin said, grinning wickedly at his padawan. “You’ve more than earned the right to be knighted, Snips. They can have their issues with me, but I’ll make sure they remember that you are more than just my Padawan. Technically, you’ve been here longer than I have.”

“Oh. You’re right. That’s weird to think about,” Ahsoka murmured.

“Believe me, I’ve been doing more than just brooding in the last six months,” Anakin said, running a hand through his hair.

“Speaking of, we’re still having that conversation about-”

“Yes,” Anakin cut her off, with a smile. “Once I deal with the Council, we can have that conversation. Padmé and I both agreed that even if the Council keeps me around, we’re going to stay in one of the nicer hotels near the Senate District for a few weeks.”

“Why?”

“I can only imagine that for now, it would be uncomfortable for the rest of the Order for me and my wife to be living together in my quarters– and she doesn’t want to move back into her senatorial apartment until she’s ready to go back to work,”

Ahsoka looked a little sad, and Anakin gently patted her shoulder. “You can come over any time you want, Snips. You and Obi-Wan are always welcome, and, kriff, bring Barriss if you want, I don’t mind either way. Just give us a call first.”

“Obi-Wan, do we have time to breathe first, or does the Council want to drop me into a pit of gundarks right away?” Anakin asked his former master, slinging his arm around the older man’s shoulders.

“I wouldn’t categorize it as dropping you into a pit of gundarks, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “But yes, the Council is expecting us immediately.”

“In that case,” Padmé said. “I’m going to take Fives and check in at the hotel.”

“Hotel?” Obi-Wan asked, confused.

“Anakin and Padmé are going to be staying in a hotel for a few weeks. Neither one feels comfortable staying in the Temple, not that I blame them.”

“Yeah, and I’d like to enjoy a couple weeks more before I have to go back to the Senate and negotiate peace treaties,” Padmé said, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face. She gently took Anakin’s hands in her own and smiled at him.

“Call me and tell me how it goes, Ani. Are you going to be home late?”

“It depends, angel,” Anakin said. “Ahsoka and Obi-Wan’ll be joining us for dinner, tonight.”

“I am?” Obi-Wan asked, confused.

“You are,” Anakin said with a grin. He leaned in and kissed Padmé on the lips before glancing at Obi-Wan.

“C’mon. Let’s get this over with,” Anakin said as he and Obi-Wan walked down the corridors to the Council chambers.

…

Anakin always felt off-kilter in the Council chambers. It was like they intentionally designed the place to leave anybody who stepped into it feeling exposed and unprotected. He wouldn’t call it _malicious_ design, but it certainly left anybody not sitting in one of the chairs feeling uneasy.

The Council itself was down several members. With the war’s conclusion, many of the senior Masters had stepped down on the grounds of wanting to focus on other things now that a war council wasn’t needed. Therefore, before him sat Master Yoda, Master Windu, Master Secura, Obi-Wan and Master Ti– each of them giving him their best neutral expressions.

Anakin would never claim to be _great_ at reading people’s emotions, after all, he’d been hoodwinked by Sidious too up until the eleventh hour, but the Jedi Council was probably the easiest group of people to read ever.

Yoda, ever the passive arbiter, had a soft, neutral expression on his face, thoughtful, reading the Force as it weaved itself up and around everything and all things. Calculating, but not unkind.

Mace Windu, though, Anakin could feel the _annoyance_ radiating off of him. The man’s brows were knit in frustration, as if confronted with two impossible, contradictory things that somehow could reconcile themselves.

Secura and Ti seemed neutral as well, having been dragged into this. He could feel the light disapproval of his actions lingering around them, but he tried his best to stand tall and proud. He regretted nothing, and wouldn’t act like he’d done some unintelligible wrong.

Obi-Wan, for his part, just seemed very amused by the whole thing. Of course, Anakin couldn’t have possibly prepared for what was next.

“Skywalker,” Windu began, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I presume you know why we’re all here today. For the last six months, this Council has been giving a great deal of thought to your actions both in the defeat of the Sith Lord Sidious, and your violations of the Jedi Code in your marriage to Senator Padmé Amidala. However, in our debate, it has been brought up that you showed exemplary ability to balance your emotional attachment to your wife and your duty as a Jedi Knight.”

Anakin bowed his head again in acceptance.

“A decision, the Council has made,” Yoda said with a nod. “Not expelled, you will be.”

Anakin blinked in surprise. Despite the reassurances likewise from Obi-Wan, he fully anticipated to be kicked out of the Order.

“Have task for you, we do.”

“You do?” Anakin asked.

“Indeed,” Windu said, leaning back in his chair. “Master Kenobi has informed us that with the Sith threat effectively neutralized, it is perhaps time the Order attempted to unbind itself from the political situation it has found itself in.”

“Strong, your marriage is?” Yoda asked, leaning on his glimmer stick.

“Yes,” Anakin said with a nod. “I love her.”

“A research project, you shall be given. About the Ruusan Reformation, you will learn. Reforms to the Order, you will recommend to us. Restore faith in the Force, and in the Order, we must.”

Anakin blinked in surprise. “A research project?”

“Indeed,” Windu said. “We’re assigning your padawan and Master Kenobi to assist you, and to keep you on target. As well, it has been… discussed that in order to do your job effectively, you need higher clearances than is permitted to a Knight. Therefore, the Council has agreed under these unusual circumstances to grant you a seat on the Council, and the title Master.”

The disbelief he was feeling was very loud in the Force– he could feel it radiating off him in waves. “Masters, thank you… but I don’t quite understand. Why are you rewarding me for…”

“You are not the first Jedi to fall in love,” Windu said, frowning. “Nor will you be the last one. It is your job, Master Skywalker, to convince us that your reforms will benefit the Order. It isn’t an easy job.”

“With all respect, Master Windu, it is a problem I have been considering for months,” Anakin said. “I will do this job to the best of my ability, I swear.”

“One of your additional duties, Skywalker, will be as the Jedi envoy to the Senate,” Windu said. “Normally, I would have asked someone like Kenobi to do it, but I have been assured that you understand politics, even if they’re not your favourite subject.”

“Settled, this matter is, then, hm?” Yoda said, ending the conversation with a small smile on his face. He gestured for Anakin to take one of the empty Council seats. Anakin gently moved to the seat and sat upon it, feeling like a small child sitting on a throne. It was everything he’d wanted since he’d become a Jedi, and it was his now. The euphoria in his _everything_ was making him ache a bit.

“Master Skywalker, opinions have you, on the Senate treaties?” Yoda asked, clearly moving on to the next topic of discussion.

Anakin blinked. “From what I’ve been told by Padmé,” he began. “There are one-hundred and fifty-one draft treaties currently in committee in the Senate. Acting Chancellor Organa has yet to bring any of them to the floor for debate. I feel that most of them do not go far enough.”

“Far enough?” Master Ti asked, smoothing her robe, a thoughtful, curious look on her face.

“Most of them are effectively restoring the status quo. Darth Sidious was able to rise because of the corruption of factions like the Banking Clan and Trade Federation,” Anakin recalled. “From the Occupation of Naboo onwards– but we cannot absolve Nute Gunray and his people of being complicit in his schemes.”

“A point, Master Skywalker has made,” Yoda said with a nod. “However, vengeance, we cannot pursue.”

“I’m not recommending that,” Anakin said quickly. “But I think that pretending a massive galactic war never happened isn’t a wise choice either. There are many planets that have suffered, and slavery has never been stronger in the Mid- and Outer Rim. If the Republic is to have any chance of truly establishing peace, there is cause for a more punitive treaty.”

“But can the Republic _enforce_ any of those treaties?” Aayla interjected. “The GAR is an unstable mess with the clone personhood laws coming into effect, and there’s very little incentive for us to commit to a planet-hopping campaign to coerce unconditional surrender.”

“Enticing planets back to the Republic by political concessions like devolution and reduced tariffs and taxes– and then sanctioning the Banking Clan, Trade Federation and others for what amounts to technically treason would do wonders for bridging some of that gap,” Anakin pointed out. “We must also note that the Hutt Clans have had a fair hand in the situation, holding the hyperlanes hostage to our turning a blind eye to their… _dirty_ affairs.”

“Mm, slavery,” Yoda said, a hint of agitation clear in his usually placid and neutral voice. “Against the natural law of the Force, it is. Abolished, it must be.”

“I will admit that I am uniquely biased in my opinion on the matter,” Anakin admitted with a deep sigh. It was a tough thing _to_ admit, that he was obviously very biased about it, but it was kind of _obvious_ , though, wasn’t it?

“However, I do think that allowing slavery to flourish under the Hutt Clans and the remnants of the Separatists will come back to haunt the Republic in the future.”

“Make recommendations to the Senate on these matters, we shall,” Yoda said with a nod. “Progress, perhaps, we can make on the subject.”

The meeting continued for a little while longer– with the war effectively concluded, the meeting primarily revolved around the decommissioning of the GAR and the transition of Jedi generals and commanders back into non-military roles in the Temple.

The topic of mandatory therapy for everyone who had participated in field combat had come up, and Anakin had made a rather impassioned plea for it– he still suffered periodic nightmares, and could only imagine how it would be for others who had suffered worse than he had. The matter had been agreed upon, and Mace had been placed in charge of getting mind healers into the Temple to help.

“Further business, have we?” Yoda asked as the meeting began to wrap up.

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Anakin said, sitting up straighter. “I believe Ahsoka is ready to be knighted.”

“Ready, you think she is?” Yoda asked thoughtfully. “Her trials, you believe them complete?”

“I am of the opinion that any Padawan willing to go into a war zone at fourteen standard years is… insane, but commendable,” Anakin said. “Her skill as a dual-wielder and the strategy she has learned through trial by combat, as well as her courage to do what men twice her age could barely do is also worthy of commendation.”

“I agree with Anakin,” Obi-Wan spoke up. “Ahsoka has been an exemplary Padawan learner, and a great asset on the battlefield.”

“Meditate on this, I will,” Yoda said. “A decision, we will make, in three days’ time.”

With that, the meeting was adjourned. On the way out, Mace Windu had given Anakin a brief look and a respectful nod, even if it seemed a bit forced and begrudged. The man still didn’t like Anakin much, and Anakin figured that nothing would change that any time soon.

“I think you did rather well,” Obi-Wan noted, stepping up to Anakin’s side. “The last six months had done wonders for your self-control.”

“It isn’t so much self-control, Obi-Wan, so much as it is taking a different means of taking on the Jedi council,” Anakin said with a half-grin at his former teacher. “Speak softly, carry a big stick.”

Obi-Wan chuckled and stroked his beard in thought. “Rather wise, where did you hear that from?”

“Some Nubéian politician during their brief expansionist era during the early Republic,” Anakin said. “I was reading through Padmé’s library at Varykino and came across a book on his diplomatic philosophies.”

Anakin rolled his shoulders. “Are you coming by our hotel for dinner?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Obi-Wan said apologetically. “I have other commitments that keep me here for the evening. Perhaps later this week?”

“I think the two of us would appreciate that,” Anakin said with a grin, patting his friend on the shoulder.

…

“Ani,” Padmé said with a grin as her husband stepped through the door.

“I told you I’d be back,” Anakin said with a grin of his own as he slipped his boots off.

“Well, they clearly didn’t throw you out of the Order,” she said with a smirk. “What happened?”

“You’re looking at the new Jedi envoy to the Senate,” Anakin said. “It seems being around you and Palpatine for as long as I have has made me uniquely qualified to be effectively kicked upstairs to the diplomatic corps.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Ani, but why didn’t they choose someone like Obi-Wan? You’re not exactly renowned the galaxy over for your… negotiation skills.”

Anakin shrugged as he took his robe off and hung it on the hook by the door. “They feel that I’d be a better fit for the politics. I don’t like politics much, but they feel that having you as a wife and my high-profile position in the GAR and amongst the public provides me a unique negotiating position in the Senate.”

“I guess I can see that,” Padmé murmured. “Are they going to come to some decision on the treaty proposals?”

“I think I’ve convinced them to support more strenuous measures against the industrial clans and the Hutts for their double-play,” Anakin said wryly. “We’ll see if that makes a difference or not. Obi-Wan said he couldn’t come tonight; he’s got something else going on. Has Ahsoka shown up yet? I promised to explain everything to her.”

“She commed and told me that she’d be here later this afternoon,” Padmé said, gently wrapping her arms around her husband’s torso. “So it’s just the two of us for a little while. I left a little something on the bed for you. I want you to wear it, if you don’t mind.”

Anakin blinked and smirked at her, gently cupping her cheek with his hand and kissing her before disentangling himself and making his way to their small hotel bedroom, closing the door behind him. Padmé smiled warmly and made her way to the kitchenette. She’d made a quick side-trip and had picked up some Alderaani spirits from the little shop that Bail had recommended to her time and time again.

She was still on vacation for the next few days, and she intended to take full advantage of that.

Pouring herself and Anakin both a respectable but not excessive glass, she made her way back to the centre of the living room, setting herself down on the couch in eager anticipation. Setting the two drinks on the table, she reached over and turned the holo on to one of the soothing contemporary music channels.

Smiling to herself, she heard rustling on the other side of the door, before it opened again.

Anakin was standing there, wearing a delicious black almost-see-through nightie that was trimmed with faux-fur. It left absolutely nothing to the imagination, giving Padmé a full, uninhibited view of his lean, toned stomach, how his dick was already trying to strain itself through the black lace panties she’d picked out for him, and how the cups of the nightie were full of the same faux-breasts he’d worn on Naboo.

 _Gods_ , he was so pretty.

Padmé gave him a grin of her own and beckoned him forth. When he got within arm’s reach, she tugged him down onto her lap. His blush was making the skin of his chest and cheeks redden.

“I have such a pretty husband,” Padmé said. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Padmé,” Anakin said, his cock obviously twitching with her praise. She gently smiled at him, before gesturing to the two glasses of spirits. Anakin accepted it and gently ran his metal hand through her hair. She still marvelled at how… impossibly gentle he was with it around her. She knew that his metallic limb was capable of crushing things in its grip like they were made of eggshell, but she never feared that with him. In fact, some of the things he’d learned to do with his electromechanical fingers…

Let’s just say the night he tried that, Anakin had learned several _colourful_ swears in Nubéian, ones that he frequently liked to parrot back to her at times when they were being snarky with each other.

“Ani,” she said gently, resting her hand on his thigh. “If I’m being a little forward or possessive, I want you to tell me. I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to do anything because I enjoy it. If at any time you want to stop wearing lingerie and all that sort of thing, just say the word and I’ll never bring it up again.”

Anakin blinked and gently leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’m not worried about that at all, Padmé,” he said softly. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice to feel pretty. We’ve had this conversation before, angel.”

“I know, I know,” Padmé said, “I just want to make sure you’re happy with how things are going.”

“I am very happy,” Anakin reassured her. “Are you sure you like seeing your husband like this?”

“I think it’s quite delicious, actually,” Padmé said in her own reassuring way, gently patting his thigh. “I had this fantasy more than once, you know.”

“You did?” Anakin asked in disbelief.

“I did. I’ve always sort of swung both ways… and on more than one occasion, I’ve dreamed of coming home to you in something just like this, waiting for me on a bed of roses,” she said dreamily.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” He asked.

“When would you have been able to do that? Most of the time it was you coming home, still covered in grease from slashing droids to smithereens, dead to the world after having not slept for twenty hours straight,” Padmé said gently. “When would we _ever_ have had time to know each other’s kinks, let alone how to seduce each other?”

“It’s a miracle we found the time to fall in love,” Anakin murmured.

“But now that I know you like being and feeling pretty, and that I know giving you praise can make you melt… I feel a little more like I know how to make you happy.”

“And you _like_ it when I’m pretty, and like me being a little rough,” Anakin said, earning a blush from Padmé as she neither confirmed nor denied the fact she _did_ like things a little rough.

“I’m just worried that now that we have time, we’ll realize how stupid it was for us to rush into things,” Anakin said gently, rubbing the hem of his nightie between his finger and thumb.

“Ani,” Padmé said, gently taking her husband’s hands. “I promise you, that won’t happen. I won’t let it. My duty to the Senate is important, but you’re my husband. We took vows to one another, and absolutely nobody is going to change that.”

“I know,” Anakin said, before taking a deep breath. “There’s just times I forget that a little bit, and worry. I still need help.”

“We’ll get you some therapy, and get you healthy again,” Padmé said, smiling up at her husband. “We have our whole lives to look forward to, Ani.”

The two found their lonely afternoon filled with the ambiance of love as they enjoyed the soft, easy listening tunes as they frequently traded off as to whom was perched on whose lap. There was a few times where they got a little handsy and sometimes a little carried away by kissing, but they were having fun.

After breaking a rather passion-filled kiss, the two sat together staring into each other’s eyes when Padmé’s comm chirped. She reluctantly dragged her eyes from her husbands and looked over at the comm, gently picking it up in her hands and looking at the message on it—Ahsoka was on her way, and would be there soon.

“Ahsoka’ll be here soon, Ani,” she said. “I think you might want to change into something a little less provocative, so you don’t give your Padawan a heart-attack.”

Anakin gently swished his nightie again before sighing and nodding, seeming almost resigned.

“I didn’t say you had to go back to wearing your usual Jedi outfit. Why don’t you pick one of the less fancy outfits out of all the stuff I bought you on Naboo? I’m sure there’s something cute in there that’ll catch your eye. If she shows up before you’re ready, I can take care of it.”

She reached up and gently ran her hand through his hair. “Are you going to be alright with taking care of your hair?”

“I think I’ve got it,” he said with a smile. “I’m going to try something out and see if it works.”

With that, he almost _glided_ back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Padmé gently snickered at his enthusiasm.

“I’m so glad he’s happy,” she murmured to herself as she cleared away the wine glasses, and checked herself in the mirror mounted to the wall. It was always good to be as presentable as possible when meeting friends—something she’d had ingrained in her from a very young age… even if it was just her husband’s padawan. She was sure she could lounge around in a shirt and pants and _still_ have the young Togruta slightly slack-jawed.

She had been _so flattered_ when she first noticed Ahsoka’s… _feelings_ toward her, but she knew that she couldn’t encourage or acknowledge it. It was one of those girlhood crushes—Padmé had known her fair share of them too when she was a teenager. She fondly remembered this one senatorial aide that served in Sidious’ office…

The thought of Sidious killed the good mood she was having, and she sighed in annoyance before turning her attention to something else. That man was going to haunt everything for _years_ , wasn’t he?

Karking sleemo.

…

Anakin emerged once more from the bedroom, giving Padmé a confident grin. Maybe all the years of being around her had rubbed off on him some.

Rather than the crown braid he’d worn on their date, his hair was draped behind him in a long, low braid, and he’d picked out the soft grey blouse with long, flowing sleeves—he’d also changed into a rather unassuming pair of dark coloured pants and heeled boots. The boots themselves, she couldn’t tell if they were a pair he’d already owned and brought with him, or one of the pairs she’d bought him. She supposed since the heel was a little _high_ to be a tactical boot, that it was one of the latter.

The heeled boot did much to make Anakin’s _already impressive_ 188 centimetres just that much taller. Padmé marvelled at her tall, leggy husband and gave him a loving, sappy grin.

“I take it you like it,” he said idly, crossing his arms.

“I _do_ ,” she said lovingly.

“Do you think it’s a little showy?” He asked, uncertainly.

“No, it’s good,” she said reassuringly. “I think the flowing sleeves suit you quite well, actually. Almost like Jedi robes, but more modern.”

“Funny, I thought the same thing,” he said with a lop-sided grin.

The sound of a knocking on the door made Anakin’s grin falter and he smoothed his blouse out and took a deep breath.

“Time to explain things, I guess,” he murmured. “She’s supportive. She knows about it already and she’s okay with it. I have nothing to worry about.”

Padmé flashed him a supportive grin and made her way to the door, and opened it.

Ahsoka was standing in the doorway, a soft smile on her face.

“Ahsoka,” Padmé said, grinning ear to ear at the tall Togruta. “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” Ahsoka said brightly. She entered their small hotel room and caught sight of Anakin standing behind the couch. “Skyguy,”

“Snips,” Anakin said with a smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“You promised you’d tell me what’s going on, and… you know, I’d never judge you for anything,” she said. “Um, nice blouse?”

“Thanks, Padmé bought it for me on Naboo,” he said with a grin. “So, okay. Come on, sit, and I guess we’ll have that conversation.”

Ahsoka took her seat on the couch and after accepting something to drink from Padmé, looked at her master and friend carefully as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“So, you know—six months being in the weeds,” he said. “I suppose the first time I did this was just kind of out of a strange curiosity? I was kind of losing my mind all alone in Varykino, with the only way to speak to anybody being brief holocalls to Padmé, and that was it.”

“I would’ve called, but-”

“The Council wanted to be sure I was given some form of radio silence until they were ready to decide my fate, I know that. No worries,” he said, waving his hand. “It’s alright. Anyway, one day I was just… I was cleaning up our bedroom, and I ended up finding an old pair of panties that had fallen in between the bed and the wall. I was bored out of my mind and went, well, you know, when on Naboo…”

“So all this started… as an act of boredom?” Ahsoka asked, incredulously.

“At first, sure,” Anakin said with a nod. “But then it… kinda blossomed? The art and calligraphy classes I’d been doing to get rid of some of the anger were helping, and… I don’t know, it felt nice at first. I started wearing it more often, and decided to do whatever I felt like doing. A splash of makeup, messing with my hair…” Anakin trailed off, looking bereft of his usual confidence.

“I decided to surprise him once my brief leave was set—the negotiations had settled down for a while, and most of the diplomatic envoys were going back to try to get some concessions from their various factions. I came home to find him lying out, sun-tanning, wearing nothing but a silk robe and an old pair of black panties. It was… it was cute. He seemed so content and happy, so I’ve just been trying to show him that it’s okay to express himself how he wants,” Padmé added in helpfully, smiling. “It was my idea to have him go all-out to the nines and take him to dinner that night.”

“I realized that there was something in me that _really liked this_ ,” he murmured. “And then you called, and you know the rest.”

Ahsoka nodded, before she stood up and quickly hugged Anakin. “I’m proud of you, Skyguy.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, I am,” she said, grinning at him. “You’re having the confidence to be you, with that… usual Skyguy flare. It’s nice to see you less angry than usual.”

“The war did a lot to hurt me, Ahsoka. Hurt all of us,” he said, gently massaging his neck. “There isn’t enough therapy in the galaxy to fix all the problems we have. But, we can try.”

“I’d really like some more input about all this, though,” Anakin said with a huff.

“Really? There’s… actually a small group of people in the Temple that might help,” Ahsoka said, wryly. “I think you should speak to Master Secura.”

“Master Secura?”

“Yeah, she’s like you sometimes. She likes to express her gender differently,” she said. “She might give you some insight into what your feelings mean.”

“Thanks, Snips,” Anakin said, his face brightening. “I didn’t know there were other people like me in the Order.”

“It’s a new development,” Ahsoka said. “With everyone back in the Temple, or almost everyone, there are just a lot of people trying to cope with their war trauma.”

Anakin nodded, resolutely. His mind had been made up. He was going to do his damn hardest to _help_ everyone in the Temple heal from Sidious’ stupid kriffing war. He was going to make sure they got the therapy and support they needed, without the Senate breathing down their neck. Suddenly, the politics of appointing him to the Senate made sense.

“They appointed me because I’m… emotional, the most un-Jedi Jedi,” Anakin murmured, looking at Padmé. “I figured it out. They want me to _have_ emotions, and harness my indignation and pride and anger for good.”

“Oh. That… that makes sense, doesn’t it?” Padmé asked. “There’s a reason most Jedi stay away from politics, it… is almost anathema to what they’re about, so… huh,”

Anakin turned to face Ahsoka, and gave her a bright grin. “I promise you, Snips. I’m going to make sure the Jedi Order survives all this, and comes out something we can be proud of for a very long time.”

“I know you will, Anakin. I never doubted that for a minute,” she said soothingly, flashing him a smile of her own.


	4. A Form of Normalcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on, and sometimes optics matter!

Before Anakin knew it, the months began to slowly blur by. After Padmé’s vacation had ended, he began to spend his days in the Senate rotunda working on behalf of the Jedi Order to slowly slice through the Bothian knot that were the Senate commitees, and help piece together the final treaties between the various Separatist systems and the Republic.

Some days were also spent visiting the therapist that had been legally mandated by the demobilisation laws, talking through the trauma he’d experienced as a slave, as a padawan, a General, and now someone tenatively exploring their gender identity.

The conversations were helpful, and left Anakin feeling less like there was a tremendous weight upon his shoulders to do absolute right. It encouraged him to continue his journey of self-discovery, where ever that took him. The days spent for he, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka in pouring through the Jedi archives, piecing together what would be the largest reform to the Jedi Order since Ruusan– it was almost humdrum compared to what they had been through together in the field, but all of them had been almost relieved to do something that didn’t require endless depths of adrenaline.

His efforts to continue the relaxing therapeutic art and calligraphy hadn’t faltered either, though they took on new meaning with the fact that his tutors were many systems away. Anakin had been very ritualistic with spending a few hours on weekends on comms getting his lessons that way– it lacked the in-person element, but it was sufficient enough.

To that point, Anakin had surprised Padmé on her birthday by composing a love poem entirely in Nubaé. The fact that he had become fluent in it–and could write the logographic language in such an artful way had his wife thunderstruck.

It wasn’t terribly common these days for anybody other than the most affluent aristocrats or prospective Queens and Kings to learn the subtle intracacies of the old language– one that had been supplanted, one way or another, by the Galactic Basic standard set by the Republic.

The sheer effort in which Anakin had thrown himself into the onus of learning all about her people and their culture– and their history, if the many books on Naboo’s earliest philosophers and myths was any indication, had given Padmé something of an inferiority complex.

She didn’t want her husband to throw himself so deeply into her culture that he lost touch with himself. She knew that he was very tight-lipped about his upbringing on Tatooine, more so about the traditions and stories he was taught as a child. She had been curious about it when they had returned to the desert planet when his mother had been kidnapped, but she hadn’t pushed the issue, and Anakin had never given any indication he wanted to talk about his past, now that he was a free man and a Jedi.

But now, confidence was pooling in her gut– and she wanted answers.

But first– it was a matter of putting together her thoughts and ideas for ensuring that Anakin had the best possible year he could. 502 had been such a controversial year for him, a constant stream of anxiety, stress and much-put-upon dysfunction that giving him a year of celebration and of love was right up the alleyway she wanted to go down.

She already intended to throw a small party for herself, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, their guests, and some friends of hers on Yeardusk, with hopefully it carrying over to Yeardawn. It had been far too long since she’d been able to have a social gathering that didn’t involve high security or the sleezy ooze of Sidious all over everything and everyone. This was a time of renewal, of hope, of joy, and she’d be damned if she didn’t have some fun with it.

Just before Yeardusk though, her thoughts about Tatooine and Anakin’s past had come back to the forefront after he’d come home from therapy looking torn to shreds.

“Ani, are you alright?” Padmé asked carefully. She had gotten well accustomed to Anakin’s mood swings– they’d gotten more and more common since he’d started ripping open old wounds with every therapist visit. “Did therapy not go well?”

“It went fine,” Anakin said in a quiet voice. “I just… have a lot to think about.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not yet,” Anakin said, shaking his head. “I’ll let you know when I get to that point.”

“Do you want to cuddle? I can put off my work for awhile,” she asked, looking at him carefully. Anakin stiffened some before nodding. That was another therapeutic thing she’d worked out. Anakin was all the calmer and more at ease when they were snuggled up together, his body pressed against hers. She wasn’t even sure it was a sexual thing– Obi-Wan had once described Anakin as being incredibly clingy in his early days as a padawan, and maybe this was how such emotionally-stunted behaviour manifested itself now?

After setting aside the most recent draft bill she’d been reading through, she and Anakin went into the bedroom and stripped down to their underwear. They sometimes cuddled naked, sometimes with nightgowns on, but tonight it seemed Anakin wanted skin-to-skin contact, but didn’t feel like going through the motions of taking off the padding on his chest– not that Padmé minded. After climbing into bed behind Anakin, she pulled the duvet up and over the both of them and cuddled him closely. In his emotionally frayed moments, he certainly enjoyed being the little spoon.

“Relax,” she murmured into his ear, before gently pressing her lips against his neck. “We’ll work through it and whatever’s bothering you, we’ll figure out.”

“Thanks, angel,” Anakin said with a slight quaver to his voice. After sitting in silence for awhile, she felt Anakin shift and he rolled over to look at her.

“I feel selfish,” Anakin said with a resigned sigh, resting his arm over his eyes. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“Why do you feel that way?” Padmé asked.

“After I became a Jedi, I completely lost touch with the one goal I always had in mind. I wanted to go back and free the slaves,” Anakin said. “I got my freedom and immediately forgot all my brothers and sisters who still suffer. I did deals and collaborated with the Hutts, and let the Jedi tell me that it was all for the common good. I feel… selfish, and I feel gross.”

Padmé sighed and pulled Anakin into her embrace. “You shouldn’t feel _bad_ for all you’ve done. I agree with you that we’ve turned a blind eye to that insidious practice for far too long. We need to think of something we can do to break the power of the Hutt clans and extinguish slavery,” she said with a frown.

“More than the Hutts,” Anakin murmured. “Slavery exists on the periphery of the Republic and always will unless the Republic enforces its will, or they arm the slaves to revolt themselves– and the Republic will never go for a full anti-slavery campaign given the fact they’re still arguing over reintegrating Separatist systems. I want to go and help the slaves be free, but… I have responsibilities here– to you, to the Jedi, to the Republic.”

“We’ll think of something, Ani,” she said softly. “We can put together a massive PR campaign against slavery, I know for a fact the Queen would stand by you and your campaign one-hundred percent… and I’m sure some of our friends would be more than happy to join the cause.”

“Padmé,” Anakin said sharply. “I love you, but that isn’t what the slaves need. They need blasters, engineers, ships, medical equipment and forged paperwork. Core Worlder PR isn’t going to fix the problem.”

Padmé had the good graces to look at the very least abashed. “Sorry, I’m sure you’ve heard that solution be brought up a thousand times. The problem is: what can we do without running afoul of political calculations. The Senate isn’t going to want to contend with the ire of the Hutts so soon.”

“I was thinking about trying to get a bunch of the decommed Clones together that don’t really want to disarm and giving them a task– to free the slaves. I’d do it myself but I’m too high profile now,” Anakin said tartly. “The Outer Rim is largely outside of the Republic’s jurisdiction, we’d just have to be careful about how the Senate views all of what they do.”

“Easier said than done,” Padmé agreed with a nod. “What about the Jedi? Could they be convinced to support such measures?”

“It’s possible? Yoda had spoken up and supported my views on slavery, but I don’t know if I can convince the Council to make moves on that front,” Anakin admitted. “It’s worth a try, though.”

…

“Sense unease in you, I do,” Yoda said as Anakin sat in the meditative position across from the Grandmaster of the Order. “Concerns, you have.”

“I have been meditating on the problem of slavery in the Outer Rim,” Anakin began. “Every time I think about the subject, the Force feels uneasy and turbulent. I think it’d be in the best interest of the Force if something was done.”

“A proposal, you have? Careful, we must be when dealing with these matters,” Yoda said wisely, nodding his head.

“I was considering the prospect of gathering volunteers from among the decommed Clones, and some clandestine Jedi and sending them to planets like Tatooine to spark slave revolts,” Anakin said firmly. “A revolt lead from the top– from the Core worlds like Coruscant will not work. They need materials and aid to break from their masters, not PR campaigns and words.”

“Dangerous, your idea is– a lot of problems, it could create for the Jedi,” Yoda said, leaning back in his seated position. “However. Merit, it has. Presume, I do, you wish to lead this mission yourself, Master Skywalker?”

“To an extent,” Anakin said firmly. “My presence _anywhere_ in the Galaxy attracts attention. I know that, but I don’t believe any attempts to make contact with the freedom trails will work unless I do it myself.”

“Why?” Yoda asked and Anakin looked a bit conflicted at having to answer.

“I can’t tell you the complete reason,” Anakin admitted with a grimace. “It’s… complicated– but being who I am, I am the only person who can do this.”

“Understand, I do,” Yoda said with a pensive look. “Assume then, I do that bring Kenobi and Tano, you will?”

“If I may,” Anakin said with a nod.

“Long-term, your research project is. Set aside for now, it can be. Discuss this before the Council, we will, before action is taken,” Yoda said definitively. “Good for the Force, a little chaos is. Big chaos, this will be. Cautious, we must be.”

“I agree,” Anakin said wryly. “But I wouldn’t have brought it up if it wasn’t important. Thank you, Master.”

…

“…and that is why I feel it is in the best interest of the Order and the Galaxy at-large to begin assisting the freedom trails and arming slaves for a revolt against the Hutts,” Anakin concluded his report to a silent and contemplative council. “I have spoken with Master Yoda on this idea, and he believes that the input of the Council would be wisest.”

“I can’t say I disagree with this plan,” Master Secura said, a troubled look on her face. “Master Skywalker is right that this is something we should be doing.”

“Is it wise to upset the balance of power so soon after the end of the war?” one of the newly appointed Masters asked.

“Doing it now rather than latter is more advisable,” Obi-Wan spoke up in support of the idea. “If we allow the Republic to get comfortable in their current position, we may find ourselves trapped between the political pressures of the Senate and their ties to the Hutts. The current state of affairs where the Senate and Republic have frosty relations with groups that entertained the Separatists gives us a window to act.”

“I agree,” Mace Windu spoke up, looking uncomfortable. “It’s no secret that the Jedi Order has had a complicated history with clandestinely accepting slavery. We should be striving to do better, and this starts by getting rid of our acceptance of this abominable practice. Master Skywalker, what are your current mission proposals for this?”

“The idea is gathering a batallion of volunteers– preferably decommed Clones who are willing to do some fighting,” Anakin began. “Plus, Jedi to provide clandestine support for the slave revolts on various worlds. We can’t be flashy showy Jedi, we need to be silent ‘blend into the background’ Jedi.”

“I could take care of Ryloth,” Aayla said with a nod. “I am intimately familiar with the slave underground there.”

“We should focus first on the Hutts,” Anakin said. “After freeing the slaves on Tatooine, the clone batallions would arrive to join up with them and would effectively start a pirate fleet to weaken the Hutts.”

“Tatooine,” Windu said thoughtfully. “Why that planet rather than Nar Shadda?”

“Tatooine has been the epicenter of the slave freedom trails for generations,” Anakin said simply. “As well, Jabba the Hutt uses the planet as his center of operations, and he’s the most dangerous of the Hutts. If you eliminate him as a threat, it will cause the Hutt clans to begin in-fighting.”

“What’s the end goal of all this?” the new master asked, looking thoughtfully at Anakin.

“If all goes well, the freed slaves would establish an alliance of systems in the Outer Rim that can fend for itself. The Republic’s jurisdiction certainly doesn’t extend that far out, and it would largely go unnoticed by the Senate.”

“Sound, this plan is– proceed with it, we shall,” Yoda said, tapping his glimmer stick twice.

“While I recognize that you are the most well-equipped to go to Tatooine, Master Skywalker,” Windu said reluctantly. “I believe that this mission would be better suited for someone else.”

Anakin blinked and frowned at the bald Master. “Why would you think so, Master Windu?”

“It isn’t that I have no confidence in your ability to get the job done,” Windu clarified. “I just think that you are far too invaluable here on Coruscant working on your research project and assisting the Senate. Your disappearance for a field mission would draw far too much attention to the work we’re doing.”

“I see,” Anakin said wryly. He couldn’t fault Windu completely for his reasonings, even if he wanted to. “Master Windu, I… recognize the wisdom of your words. Who did you have in mind for the mission?”

“Master Kenobi is a masterful diplomat and has taken a far less public role since the fall of Darth Sidious,” Windu contributed. “Did you have someone else in mind, Master Skywalker?”

“Master Secura understands slavery better than anyone barring myself,” Anakin said with a nod to the Twi’lek master. “She’d be acceptable to me.”

“Thank you, we do, Master Skywalker, for being so agreeable,” Yoda said, folding his small hands over each other.

“I will create a holorecording that I want you to take with you to Tatooine,” Anakin said, looking at Obi-Wan and Aayla firmly. “It will be of the utmost secrecy, and you are _only_ to show it to those whom you _know_ to be slaves, or members of the Freedom Trail.”

The authoritativeness of Anakin had the two masters nodding in agreement– rarely was Anakin so deathly serious.

A handful of hours later, a slightly irritated-looking Anakin entered the Jedi Temple’s hangar where Obi-Wan and Aayla were packing up material onto their ship.

“Here you are,” Anakin said, placing the holorecording into Aayla’s hand. He sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose.

“Master Secura,” he said quietly. “When you return to Coruscant, I would like to get some advice from you, if that’s alright?”

“It would be my pleasure, Master Skywalker,” Aayla said genially, bowing her head.

“You’ll rendezvous with our Clone volunteers on the way to Tatooine, and uh, Master Secura? Make sure my old master here doesn’t break a hip while on campaign.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes while Aayla snickered. “I’ll be sure,” she said. “May the Force be with you, Master Skywalker.”

“And with you,” Anakin said.

…

Anakin shut the door to the apartment a little harder than he would have liked, and winced before setting down on the couch and taking a deep breath.

He shouldn’t let his anger get the better of him.

That never helped.

As much as he hated it, Windu had made a good point. While he was definitely the best equipped to go to Tatooine– for many reasons, he was also too conspicuous. As it was, having _Obi-Wan_ go was dubious at best, saved only by the fact that the news had largely stopped reporting on his exploits once they’d sniffed out the Amidala-Skywalker romance saga.

Reaching up, Anakin started the process of undoing the crown braid that he’d put his hair in that morning. He was in a bad mood, and he knew that the best way to… _resolve_ that was to do some kind of self-care routine, and then maybe focus on something worth his time and effort. He’d already tried to throw himself at the salle in the Jedi Temple, and found that utterly unhelpful… so maybe less violent constructs would help him relax.

After stripping off his “Jedi Master robes”, Anakin drew himself a warm bath with the various oils that Padme had given him for his Lifeday. Settling into it, Anakin mused on the sheer absurdity of the current situation he was in, considering his background. His therapist probably wouldn’t see the humour in it, and would insist that he deserved creature comforts regardless of his background, but he didn’t mean it in a _negative_ way. He meant it in a positive way. He’d come a long way since he was a child, and he was proud of that.

After soaking until the water began to turn tepid, Anakin stepped out of the bath and dried himself off and decided to opt for something a little comfortable but not _too extra_. That ended up being a long flowing crimson nightgown; one of the various outfits Padme had bought him on Naboo.

It was cool and soft against his skin, and the constant sensory feedback from it rubbing against his skin and the straps resting against his shoulders was actually kind of soothing.

After drying his hair and rebraiding it, Anakin checked the chrono. It was just after 7 kiloseconds. Padme should be home relatively soon, if her usual schedule was any indication. With relative peacetime, late hours at the office should be far few and inbetween. He decided that _tonight_ was definitely an order-out night. Dex’s was always a favourite when they worked late, when high society fare was completely out of the question and everyone could settle for something cheap and greasy.

For himself, he chose a spicy curry with protein, and for Padme he got her usual sandwich and salad.

While he waited for the delivery, he decided to enjoy the relative silence to work on some designs for improving Threepio and Artoo. He’d started the design plans while on Naboo, but he’d put it to the side after returning to Coruscant– now, he had a chance to return to it and _relax_. To let his pent-up feelings go.

The front door of the apartment opening broke Anakin from his reverie, and he glanced up from his designs to see a slightly harried Padmé enter the room, with Dormé tagging along side her.

“Angel?” Anakin asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “It has just been a very trying day– several people decided that since we weren’t together this afternoon, it was a sign they should try to push me on treaty negotiations. I had to _remind_ them just who they were dealing with.”

Anakin snorted.

“That, and I knew you’d be home already, and I was really wanting to see my gorgeous starlight,” she said, winking at him, before she turned to Dormé.

“Dormé, I appreciate you worrying about me so much,” Padmé said gently, grasping her handmaiden’s hands in hers. “But it’ll be alright. I know that you had some plans this evening, and I want you to go enjoy them. Anakin’s here, and I’ll be alright.”

Dormé smiled at her friend and former Queen. “Okay, Padmé. I don’t have Senatorial duty tomorrow, Moteé is on rota.”

“I understand, you enjoy your day off,” Padmé said gently. “Again, thank you for running interference on that sleemo.”

“No problem,” Dormé said, grinning. She quickly left, and Padmé sighed.

“Ani, love, my _hair_ is hurting,” Padmé said, gesturing to the elaborate ornate headpiece resting on her head. “Can you please help me out here?”

Anakin grinned and beckoned his wife over. He started to gently take the hairpins out of her hair, slowly unweaving her hair from the headpiece.

“I got a call today,” Padmé said. “Directly from Queen Jamilla.”

“You did?” Anakin asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” Padmé said. “It seems that the Royal Advisory Council has unanimously agreed, with input from the civilian government and the Queen herself that us merely being married in private is insufficient. She asked me to _strongly_ consider having a public wedding on Naboo. As I am a Queen Emeritus, my spouse and my children are all recognized as Prince or Princess, and considering your heroic status among the Naboo…”

“They want us to have a full-blown royal marriage,” Anakin said with a hum.

“Yes. I didn’t commit to it, saying I wanted to talk to you before I jumped into it.”

“I’d have to clear it with the Jedi Council first,” Anakin said earnestly. “There shouldn’t be a big problem with it, but they might want to have some control over the optics of it. Did they indicate if they want me to wear traditional Nubaé attire or play up my status as a Jedi Master?”

“That’s actually up to you. Non-binary spouses-to-be, even in the Royal households, can choose their form of attire and title. You could be Princess Anakin or Prince Anakin, if you so choose. We’d also need to decide how we’re going to deal with our names.”

“What do you mean?”

Padmé sighed and rubbed her eyes as Anakin pulled the last pieces of her headpiece off and gently rubbed his fingers through her strained scalp. “It’s complicated. You know, of course, that I was _born_ Padmé Naberrie.”

“Yes,” Anakin confirmed. He’d still only met Jobal and Ruwee once before their marriage. They’d already made plans to visit them and talk it over once the last negotiations had been concluded, but there were still some obstacles to overcome.

“When I was elected Queen, my regnal name became Amidala. Her Royal Majesty, Queen Amidala of the Naboo. When my term of office ended and I became the Senator, my name became Padmé Amidala Naberrie. Amidala is my name as Queen, but also the name of my household. Any descendants I have will be recognized as the _House of Amidala_. I don’t want to deny you the right to pass on _your_ family name too.”

“We can figure all that out later,” Anakin said, curling his arms around Padmé’s torso. “If they want us to have a formal grand marriage on Naboo, then I guess that’s what we’ll do.”

“I’m sorry it’s so complicated,” Padmé said apologetically.

“Don’t be,” Anakin murmured, gently kissing the nape of her neck before chuckling. “When has my life ever been _un_ complicated? So, they’re serious about letting me choose what gendered title I want?”

“Yes,” Padmé said with a nod. “When I explained your gender identity crisis, they were very open to accomodating you and working with you. Am I going to get to see you in a traditional Nubaé dress after all?”

“Maybe, but if they try to stick me with some garish headpiece, I’m going to just show up in a set of Jedi robes,” Anakin muttered. “We’ll talk to them and work something out.”

Padmé giggled and wormed her way out of Anakin’s arms. “I need to have a bath before we get too comfortable, Ani.”

“Alright, don’t take too long. Dinner’s on the way. I ordered Dex’s, if that’s alright?” Anakin asked, giving her a cute pout.

“That’s perfect,” Padmé said with a smile. “You just stay right there and keep being pretty while I go get the stink of the Senate off of me.”

“That I can do,” Anakin said with a grin.

…

Padmé timed it perfectly. Not long after she got out of the fresher, their food arrived. Turning on a kitschy romantic drama set during the Mandalorian Wars, the couple ate their dinner in companionable silence. Once it was done, they cuddled together on the couch.

“Obi-Wan and Aayla have gone to Tatooine to seed the slave revolt,” Anakin said.

“They didn’t send you?” Padmé asked, confused.

“No, well, I wanted to go, and I was going to go, but Master Windu made a point, as stupid as it was,” Anakin admitted. “I’m too high profile now, and the work I do in the Senate and in the Archives is… too valuable.”

“You’re disappointed,” Padmé observed.

“A bit,” Anakin admitted. “I understand _why_ , but I still feel disappointed. Why is that?”

“You’re not used to having others do for you,” Padmé said, gently running her hand down her husband’s cheek. “Do the means make the difference? You promised you’d free the slaves, and look at you now. Using your resources and abilities as a leader and a Jedi Master to do it.”

“I guess. It’s just different than what I envisioned, doing it myself with a lightsaber in one hand and fire in my belly. Instead I’m here living a life of relative hedonism.”

“You’ve earned luxury, many times over,” Padmé said, kissing him on the chin. “Please be kind to yourself, Ani.”

“You’re right,” Anakin admitted, sighing. “It’s just hard to adjust sometimes, going from weeks in the field to living in the lap of luxury on Coruscant.”

“It’s what your mother would have wanted for you,” Padmé offered. “And it’s what I’ve wanted for you since the day we promised ourselves to each other. All that I have, and all the privilege and fortune that I’ve been given, is yours too.”

“I love you,” Anakin murmured, gently kissing his wife on the forehead.

“I love you too, Ani,” Padmé said warmly.

…

Anakin was woken up far too early by the sound of his comm chirping, and found himself still on their couch, pinned into where he was by a snoring Padmé, who was still curled up into him.

Because he was unable to grab his comm physically, he used the Force to summon it over to himself, and activated it. The pale holographic form of Shaak Ti appeared before him, her hands folded into her sleeves with the ever-neutral Jedi Master expression on her face.

“Master Skywalker,” she greeted evenly, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “I apologize for waking you so early.”

“Master Ti,” he said, eyebrows raised. “It’s alright, I wouldn’t have slept much more anyway. Is something wrong?”

“No, but the Council will be assembling later this morning to receive Master Kenobi’s first field report from Tatooine, at 3.25. We are aware that you do not always sleep in your quarters in the Temple, given your situation. I wanted to be sure you were given enough time to ready yourself for the meeting.”

“I appreciate it,” Anakin said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Take your time, Anakin, so long as you’re not late,” Master Ti reassured him, this time her smile blooming fully. “Give your wife my regards as well. Shaak out.”

The comm clicked off, and Anakin floated it back to where it came from. He laid there for another moment before briefly kissing Padmé on the cheek.

“Angel, darling,” he murmured into her ear. “I’ve gotta go.”

She groaned and finally opened her eyes, looking at him. “Mmm, what time is it?” she asked.

“1.57,” Anakin said, glancing up at the chrono on the wall.

“Early,” she mumbled. “I don’t have to be up until 2.5,”

“I have a Council meeting at 3.25,” Anakin explained. “C’mon, I need to get up and get ready.”

“Just lift me with your Force powers,” she grumbled, burrowing deeper into the blanket they’d been curled up under.

Anakin rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless before lifting his wife gently with the Force, getting up onto his feet, and placing her back down on the cushions. She burrowed a bit deeper into the blankets, before slightly turning.

“Love you,” she mumbled.

“Love you too, angel,” Anakin said earnestly before he went to get ready for the day. He first took a sonic shower, preferring to get quickly clean rather than soak, as he wanted to at least be there early to show he was actually serious about the whole thing.

Once he was satisfied, he braided his hair up in his now rather customary crown braid, before getting dressed. His usual black robes would suffice, though he did decide that today he’d wear his falsies, if for no other reason than to feel pretty inside. He also splashed a bit of Padmé’s cosmetics around his eyes and his lips– nothing garish or outstanding, but just a little bit of colour.

Before he left, he wrote a small note to Padmé and sent it to her datapad, letting her know that he’d be home around 7.75.

It was just nearly 2:50 when Anakin finally hopped in his speeder and shot off towards the Temple. Traffic wasn’t too terrible, and he arrived just after 2.75. He decided his first stop that morning would be the cafeteria. It wasn’t always the best food, but Anakin decided he needed some breakfast first.

He jumped in line behind a couple of early-riser padawans and knights, and dutifully waited his turn to get a breakfast consisting of some cut oats in milk, fruit and a cup of kaf. As he checked out with the unfortunate soul stuck working breakfast duty, he turned to see Mace Windu and Shaak Ti having cups of kaf themselves. Windu noticed him and waved him over.

“Good morning, Skywalker. Seems we’re all of like mind today,” Windu said with a slight smile as Anakin sat down across from him.

“I definitely needed some breakfast,” Anakin agreed.

“It was always easier to deal with Skywalker-Kenobi shenanigans after a healthy breakfast,” Shaak Ti said, smirking some as Anakin gave her a disbelieving look.

“I’ll have you know most of those shenanigans weren’t directly my fault.”

“I know,” Shaak Ti said with a grin. “But someone’s got to tease you a bit now that you’re a Jedi Master. I hope you don’t mind it.”

“Not at all,” Anakin said with a roll of his eyes.

“I don’t know if anybody’s told you this, Anakin, but since you’ve come back from your leave of absence, you’ve just been… _transformed_ almost.”

“All those months was a nice way to sort out most of my priorities, and the therapy’s been helping. Plus, Padmé. I don’t know where I’d be without her.”

The three masters conversed for a bit before adjourning to the Council chamber. As they entered, Anakin took his seat and gave a nod to Master Yoda, who reciprocated his respectful nod.

“Now that we’re all here,” Master Windu began. “We can discuss the matters at hand. Master Kenobi and Master Secura will be giving us their report.”

“Thank you, Masters Windu, Yoda, Skywalker,” Obi-Wan said, his holo taking center stage before the few physically present Masters. “I am pleased to report that our arrival on Tatooine has gone over well. We have made contact with several members of the Freedom Trail. Master Secura is still with them now. We have been working at disabling slave chips en masse, and training them in the basics of combat with the help of our Clone friends.”

“As well, I have a message for Master Skywalker from one of the Freedom Trail contacts.”

Obi-Wan vanished, and instead Kitster Banai stood in front of the Jedi Council.

“Ani,” he began. “I am glad that I had a chance to send this message. The support the Jedi Order has offered has been quite instrumental in building a resistance base against Jabba the Hutt and his slavers. We have been working tirelessly to ensure that we are ready when the time comes, and we thank you for sending Master Kenobi and Master Secura. I understand that you cannot be here yourself, owing to your high profile on the galactic stage, but I will hold you and your mother in my heart as we liberate our home planet from the yoke of slavery. I have included my personal comm code in this message, should you be able to reach out to me in the future. May you bring the rains, Ani.”

The message stopped and Obi-Wan returned. “Anakin’s message to the Freedom Trail has been most instrumental in getting us an in with them. I do not think we would have been able to otherwise, and so I thank you, Anakin, for your assistance.”

“You’re welcome, Obi-Wan. Does the Freedom Trail need any supplies?”

“Some medical supplies and a healer who is familiar with field medicine would be appreciated,” Obi-Wan said, nodding. “The military side of things is well-covered for now.”

“We could send Master Unduli,” Shaak Ti said. “or perhaps Knight Offee? Both have had experience in the field and healing.”

“Send both, we will– help the slaves as much as possible, we must,” Yoda said, tapping his stick against the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter makes some more overt references to a decimal calendar system I've come up with for Star Wars. 
> 
> One hundred seconds in a minute, one hundred minutes in an hour, ten hours in a day, one hundred days in a month, ten months in a year.
> 
> "502 ME" corresponds to the number of years that have passed since an unspecified event in the back history of the Republic.
> 
> 500 ME roughly corresponds to 22 BBY, the year that the Clone Wars began.


End file.
